What Now?
by shelly321
Summary: Post-Telling; SV definitely. Chapter ten (finally) added
1. Chapter One

Post "The Telling"  
  
I don't own anything but my own thoughts. ----  
  
"You've been missing for almost two years." He can't even look me in the eye.  
  
The sentence hits me like a ton of bricks. How is it possible that it has been two years since that night? That horrible night is the last thing I remember aside from the past 24 hours that I have been sitting here in this godforsaken safe house.  
  
"Vaughn?" My voice squeaks out, I'm unsure what I am supposed to say at this point - many choice words come to mind but I don't think they will help the situation - so, I say the first thing that comes to mind, "You're married." It comes out as a statement rather than a question.  
  
Vaughn breathes in through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly and I know he is sorting his thoughts and choosing his words carefully, he used to do this whenever I asked questions about his family or when he was explaining a counter mission he was particularly worried about. He finally looks back up at me, "Syd."  
  
"Yes or no, Michael," he winces when I use his first name, "It's an easy question."  
  
"But there's not an easy answer, Syd, there never was with us." It's my turn to grimace when he uses past tense in terms of our relationship and Vaughn's eyes soften, the familiar lines deepening across his forehead. "Yes, I'm married."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Syd, I don't think we should talk about this right now," the dreaded ringed finger reappears as Vaughn lifts his hand to his temple.  
  
"Fine, but at least tell me what her name is."  
  
"Melanie."  
  
Melanie. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face stoic. I meet Vaughn's eyes with a steady gaze, one I hope is void of any emotion. "So, what now?"  
  
"I am supposed to bring you back. Syd, given the fact that you have been missing for the past 23 months, you'll go into Federal custody once we land. After they have examined you and run their necessary battery of tests, I'm sure you will be released."  
  
"What then," my reality outside of my relationship with Vaughn returns to the forefront of my mind. Until Vaughn entered the room my only thoughts had been about Francie and Will - wondering if they were dead, what had happened to the real Francie, who it was that I was actually fighting in the apartment - Vaughn was not one of my worries. "What am I supposed to do after that? Will is alive but my last memories are of him, bloody and lifeless in a bathtub, a scene I have seen two times too many in my lifetime. I don't know about Francie because you avoided answering my question about her. I'm curious as to why my father isn't here instead of you. And what about my mother?"  
  
I pause, holding my hand up to silence Vaughn who has opened his mouth to talk. I rise to my feet and start pacing to the door and back. "Now you tell me that I am going into custody, like a criminal, not like the agent of the government that I am. The last thing I remember was crashing into the mirror in my bedroom, watching the woman I thought was my best friend fall to ground, taken down by bullets from the gun in my hands. And to top it all off, the man I love, who I was planning on going to Santa Barbara with this weekend, that man is married. Oh yes, and I don't remember the past two years of my life! What in the hell am I supposed to do, Vaughn?"  
  
Somewhere in the middle of my tirade I have started crying, betraying the anger in my voice. I wipe my sleeve across my face, but am unable to stop new tears from soaking the skin.  
  
Vaughn gets up from his chair and reaches out to stop my pacing, "I don't know, Sydney. I wish I could tell you, that I could figure it all out for you. But I can't, right now I just have to get you on a plane and back to the United States, we'll have to figure it out from there."  
  
"We, Vaughn?" I look down to the hand still gripping my arm, "You said that they had asked you to come back and explain to me. At this point I would assume that to mean that they asked you to come back to the CIA and if that's true, then you certainly aren't my handler anymore. And despite how I feel about you, you aren't my boyfriend. So tell me how, 'we' are going to figure this out."  
  
As I speak the words I can feel his grip tightening around my arm, he is getting angry. I almost welcome any outburst that might follow, at least then I will know he's not indifferent to the situation. I look up at his face and am surprised to see tears sliding down his cheeks. A small sob escapes my own lips as his free hand reaches up and caresses my face. I lean into his hand, shutting my eyes, reveling in his touch.  
  
His arms slide down, hands reaching to pull my body into his chest. I instinctively tuck my head into his neck and wrap my arms around his torso. We stand like that for who knows how long, both crying uncontrollably until the tears are spent. His right hand follows a calming path up and down my back while his left is firmly curved around my neck, holding my head in place. I feel him inhale deeply, chest rising against mine, his heart beats in rhythm with my own.  
  
"I thought you were dead," the words are barely audible and possibly unspoken but I hear them none-the-less. Vaughn continues, his voice gaining strength, "There was so much blood and you weren't there. A few months later a body, with DNA matching yours, turned up in a hotel room in Vienna. The body was burned beyond visual recognition but Sloane had been sighted in the area the previous week so the CIA concluded he had used you to whatever end he had intended and then disposed of you."  
  
Vaughn stops, pulling me away from him, locking his eyes with mine, "Syd, you have to believe that I knew better than to believe any evidence of your death, especially if it was linked to Sloane. I kept searching, looking for any reason to believe that you were alive, that you were coming back, but there was never anything. We had regular intel coming in regarding Sloane and his location but there was never anything about you or anyone resembling you. The CIA closed the file three months ago - I think they only kept it open that long out of respect for your father. I have done what I could but I was expected to continue on with my job and my work, despite what had happened, despite our relationship. Do you understand that there was no hope? iNothing/i turned up in the past two years to make me think that you were alive until your phone call to Kendall yesterday."  
  
A few more tears managed to squeeze themselves from my eyes as I looked back at Vaughn. "I understand." I shrug, not knowing what more I can say at this point.  
  
Vaughn's hands come up to frame my face as he leans in, lips hovering in front of mine. I left up hands to cover his, the inside of my knuckle knocking against the hard metal band on his left hand, causing my head to jerk back, away from Vaughn. How soon we forget what we don't want to know.  
  
"How long, Vaughn?"  
  
Vaughn's hands fall back to his sides, bringing mine down as well. "Almost three months."  
  
Before I can ask more questions, Vaughn is at the door, calling down the hall in Chinese, "She's ready."  
  
After a few seconds, the man who showed me to my room and brought me a couple meals is bringing in another stack of clothing with a passport resting on top. He is in and out without a word, leaving Vaughn and I alone again.  
  
"I'll let you change, our flight leaves in an hour. Your alias is Natasha Hamilton, you are my sister and we have just been to China to visit our parents who are missionaries. There will be six other plain-clothed agents on the plane with us, two each behind, in front and beside us. We'll land in Los Angeles close to midnight and will be escorted out a back entrance and into a van that will take you to the Joint Task Force center and into custody," Vaughn avoids looking at me for more than a second, his eyes circled the room, stopping on the window above the bed.  
  
"I won't try and escape," I reply to his unformed question. "I've got no where to run." And nothing to run to.  
  
Vaughn says nothing more as he opens the door and leaves me alone in the room to change. It seems silly that I have to be alone to change my clothes; a memory of him kissing up and down my uncovered body is still vivid in my mind.  
  
My reflection in the mirror across the room catches my eye and seeing myself with this new knowledge brings on a rush of nausea. Thankfully I haven't eaten much and I simply end up dry-heaving over the toilet. I change quickly and pick up my passport before going out into the hallway to an unsmiling Vaughn and whatever it is that lays ahead.  
  
* * *  
  
Onboard the plane I start feeling even more uncomfortable, knowing six other agents are in close proximity to make sure I make it to LA - not for my own safety but for the safety of my country - I am a threat. I find it odd that we aren't on a private flight but then the whole situation is a little different to put it mildly so I will just go with it.  
  
Usually I can sleep without any trouble when I am on a plane, sometimes flights are the only time I am able to catch up on my sleep. But now I am wide awake, though I do lean against the side of the plane, eyes closed, pretending to sleep so I don't continue staring at Vaughn, willing him to look in my direction. After an hour I feel Vaughn's arm relax on the armrest and I peek through a crack in my eyelids to see that he has fallen asleep. I open my eyes and sit back in my chair, sighing as I stare at the call button above my head.  
  
In my head I replay every moment that has happened since Vaughn came into to my room in Hong Kong. A sarcastic laugh passes my lips as I recall a point when I was fighting 'Francie' and the thought that things couldn't get any worse passed through my mind. I never would have thought that Sloane could have taken my life from me without killing me. But here I am, two years lost, no doubt because of Arvin Sloane.  
  
Next to me Vaughn's breathing has gotten heavier, 'poor guy,' I can't help but think. He didn't ask for any of this, it's simply par for the course when it comes to my life and it's my fault he got dragged into it. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, willing his head to fall onto my shoulder, longing for physical contact, conscious or not. I lean over, turning my head, hoping to get a whiff of his aftershave or shampoo, both familiar smells. Neither scent greets my nose but instead there is the smell of my own shampoo. Rosemary and mint. Vaughn had commented more than once about how much money was I sudsing into my hair and washing down the drain. He is using my shampoo? Or, maybe he is using his wife's shampoo - I banish that thought from my mind.  
  
I must have finally drifted off because I just heard the head flight attendant announce that we are just about to land. Vaughn isn't seated next to me and I feel the panic rising in my stomach, thinking that I am going to have to do this by myself. I'm halfway out of my seat, an alarmed look on my face, eyes searching the plane. The agents seated behind me avoid my eyes but then I see him, coming out of the bathroom at the back of the plane. I quickly turn to right myself in my seat but not before Vaughn has seen me.  
  
"Hey, don't worry, Syd," Vaughn murmurs as he takes his place next to me. "You are not alone."  
  
"Funny, it sure feels like I am," I can't help the sarcasm that has found its way into my voice.  
  
Vaughn sighs and shakes his head, "I guess I can't tell you how to feel but please trust that I will not leave you, I am your ally, I'm on your side."  
  
His words echo through my mind as we make it through landing and get off the plane without exchanging another word. Vaughn's hand is wrapped lightly around my arm, guiding me into a corridor off from the main concourse. At the end of the hall is a door, leading us to a windowless room where we are met by four uniformed agents.  
  
One of the four steps forward, he reminds me of a guy I dated in high school, Kevin Maxfield. Kevin was tall and broad shouldered with black hair, but this guy is blond and his badge says his name is Bryce Armstrong. "Sydney Bristow?"  
  
"Yes," one-word answers are always best.  
  
"Sydney Bristow, you are under arrest pending the investigation of possible treasonous activity on your part against the United States," Agent Armstrong starts reading me my rights as I turn my back to him, offering him my wrists.  
  
I feel the metal of the handcuffs circle my wrists, my eyes on Vaughn, who winces as he hears my bonds click tighter. His eyes meet mine, revealing a sadness I'm sure matched in my own eyes. "Ms Bristow, do you understand your rights," our silent exchange is interrupted.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Thank you, Agent Vaughn, for bringing her in," another agent's voice booms from behind me. The words flush my cheeks, causing me to feel humiliated for something I have had no control over.  
  
Vaughn's eyes flicker over mine before he responds, "Not a problem, Agent Jenkins. Are we ready to go?"  
  
"Yes, sir. The van is waiting right outside this door." Sir?  
  
I feel a strong hand take hold of my arm and spin me around to face a door I hadn't noticed when we walked in the room. Two agents go ahead of us and then I am led through the door, with Vaughn and the fourth agent bringing up the rear. A van truly is waiting a few feet away from the door, in between planes with the airport terminals looming above us. I surprised they didn't simple pull right up to the plane and load me directly into the van.  
  
The ride to the ops center is uneventful; Vaughn has to ride in front with the deep voiced Jenkins while I am in back with Armstrong and the other two agents who have yet to speak. Despite all of my training I am having a hard time keeping myself from bursting into tears, there is just no way to prepare for this situation in your life.  
  
The van slows to a stop and the door slides open revealing familiar territory - the same door my mother was taken in and out of when she was transported. I am my mother's daughter after all.  
  
Vaughn is standing before me, offering a weak smile.  
  
"Agent Vaughn, you are to report to Director Kendall now," Jenkins calls from the driver's seat. "We can take it from here."  
  
I nod, silently acknowledging that I am all right, knowing he feels guilty for already having to leave me. Vaughn turns and opens the door closest to the van and goes inside, while I am maneuvered out of my seat and onto my feet. Armstrong seems to have been given point on maintaining my security as he is the one who takes my arm again and leads me into the building and down the familiar hallway to the cell formerly inhabited by my mother.  
  
* * *  
  
The handcuffs were thankfully removed once I was inside the cell and I have been left alone for the past thirty minutes or so, though I am without a doubt being monitored closely by the four security cameras within my cell. I hear the gate at the end of the hallway shift, starting to open; I briefly wonder what my mother used to think when she heard the same noise. Footsteps are approaching, I know that walk: Vaughn.  
  
Vaughn nods back down the hall to the agent at the other end once he is in front of my door and I hear the lock click. They are allowing him to come inside, that must be a good sign. He enters my new quarters and comes to sit next to me on the cement slab I can now call a bed.  
  
"I've explained to Kendall how I found you in Hong Kong, that you don't remember anything of the past 23 months," Vaughn speaks clearly, knowing we are being monitored. "They are going to wait until morning to start testing you."  
  
"How long," I ask then, noting the look of confusion on his face, clarify, "How long are they going to hold me?"  
  
"I'm not sure, I guess it depends on what shows up on the tests. First, will be medical and physical testing and then psychological and emotional. At that point I would assume that you will have some regression therapy sessions if you haven't started remembering things but I hope they will have released you by then, at least to a safe house." Vaughn explains, "Tomorrow you will be allowed visitors, your father and Will and maybe Dixon and Marshall."  
  
I feel a wave of emotions wash over me as Vaughn names the people closest to me, even though I feel like I just saw them, knowing it has been so long makes me instantly miss them. "So, my father is all right?"  
  
"Yes, but he is on an assignment in Brazil and won't be back until the morning," Vaughn sighs. "Hopefully you will be able to get answers to your questions in the morning."  
  
"One more question, what about Francie? She's dead, isn't she?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Syd, she was gone for a long time before that night. We found her body the next day and it was determined that she had been killed a few months before, around the time that the Alliance fell," Vaughn puts his hand over mine on the bed has he talks. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's okay," I whisper, my eyes locked on the wedding ring adorning the hand that is wrapped around mine.  
  
I look up at Vaughn and see that he has followed my gaze down to our hands, after a second he looks up, too. I just shake my head sadly and shrug. Vaughn simply leans over and kisses my forehead as I close my eyes. There aren't words left for us to say right now, though the questions flying through my mind are endless.  
  
Vaughn stands up and goes to the door, turning to look back at me. "Get some sleep, Syd, I'm sure you are going to need it."  
  
"Thank you," again I am whispering, "Thank you for coming to get me. I'm sorry if I caused any problems with your."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Vaughn stops me from continuing, "Syd, things are going to be all right, despite how they seem now. Trust me, everything is not as bad as it seems."  
  
I lift my hand and wave as he passes by on the other side of the glass, waiting until he is out of sight to let the sob that I have been holding escape, bringing it with it a downpour of tears. His sentiment is nice and well-directed but I can't see how things aren't as bad as they seem, especially with regard to the two of us. He's married - what makes that better? Vaughn certainly isn't one to gloss things over so he surely didn't mean that I would find someone new and we would both live happily ever after in our separate lives or that what we had was unimportant and I will get over it.  
  
I turn and curl up on the thin mattress, with my back facing the empty room and the cameras. Hopefully sleep will come before too long, I can't stand to be alone with my thoughts any longer.  
  
---- Thanks for reading. I hope that you enjoyed it so far considering not much has happened. Things will happen in the next chapter, I promise, but I'm tired now so you will just have to wait. 


	2. Chapter Two

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy chapter 2, I enjoy reviews so be kind and leave me a note about what you think.  
  
I wake up with a start, forgetting for only a millisecond where I am and why I am here. Rolling over I can't help but let my eyes drift up towards the camera above the door. I hate them. I hate the people on the other side of that camera, watching my every move, waiting to see if I break. I hate them for seeing me at my worst - locked up and crying. I am a fighter, a survivor, not someone who sobs into her pillow.  
  
The anger is bubbling in my stomach and instead of crying I want to throw something at the camera, to jump up and break it off, smashing it to pieces. I want to kick some ass - heaven help the first person I see this morning.  
  
On cue, I hear the gate lifting at the end of the hall. Who is the lucky soul?  
  
The minute he walks into view my anger melts: Will. He stops in front of my door and nods back down to the hallway. Before he is even through the door I am up and off the bed, throwing my arms around his neck.  
  
"Hey Syd," Will says, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Will," I'm crying, "You were in the bathtub. there was so much blood. Will, God, I've missed you so much and I didn't even know it. I'm so glad you are okay. You are okay, right?"  
  
Will is crying too, and laughing, "Sydney, Syd. take a breath. Yes, I'm all right, perfectly healthy, in fact. But you. I just can't believe it is you!"  
  
Will pulls me away from him to look me up and down, stopping to stare at my face then embraces me again.  
  
"Syd," Will speaks over my shoulder, "Where have you been?"  
  
I take a step back from Will, taking his hands in mine, "I have no idea. I just woke up in an alley in Hong Kong and that is all I know, the last thing I remember is fighting with Francie. I mean, well, I don't know who I mean."  
  
"Allison, her name was Allison, she worked for Sark and Sloane."  
  
"I shot her, Will," I squeeze his hands, "And even though I knew it wasn't Francie it still felt like it was her that I was shooting, her I was killing."  
  
"But it wasn't, Syd. Allison was trying to kill you, too. She was on Sloane's side," Will offers a weak smile. "Look, that doesn't matter right now, we just have to work on getting you out of here. Mike says that they have to determine whether or not you are telling the truth about all this and if you can remember anything."  
  
"I guess that sounds about right," there is something in Will's voice, the use of Vaughn's first name that causes me to ask the next question, "Are you guys friends now?"  
  
"Who, me and Mike?" I nod, he continues, "Yeah, we're friends. After you were gone we started playing basketball together with Weiss to blow off steam. Sometimes we would talk about you, but mostly we just did guy things. We haven't seen each other too much lately, he's been pretty busy with work."  
  
"Do you know her?"  
  
"Melanie? Yes, I know her, of course I know her," Will clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable, "You know, I don't think we should really be talking about her, not now, not here; there are more important things that we should be concentrating on."  
  
"Okay, sure," I rub my hands over my face.  
  
I hear the gate again and look down the hall to see my father walking quickly towards me. "Sydney," he gasps. "It is you!"  
  
My dad, the iron-willed Jack Bristow, enters my cell with tears rolling down his face, taking me into his arms in one, swooping motion.  
  
"Dad," the tears are flowing once again and that is all I can say.  
  
After a few minutes, I remember that Will is standing next to us and let go of my dad who seems reluctant to let me out of his grasp. Despite myself I laugh, "This is just so, so unreal. I mean, I am so upset and crying but I feel like I just saw both of you a couple days ago, not two years ago. I'm sorry."  
  
"Sydney, please, don't be sorry," my dad beats Will to the punch, "At least you didn't have to go through two years of being away from the people you loved, it's been hell for all of us. And at least you don't remember the hell you've been through. For that, I am thankful."  
  
His words bring tears to my eyes again and I am damn sick of crying. Before I can say anything to comfort Will or my dad, the gate goes up again. Who's it going to be this time? A glance down the hall reveals someone I was looking the least forward to seeing, Kendall.  
  
"Sydney, welcome back to the United States," Kendall strides through the door as pompous as ever, "You've thrown us for quite a loop these past two years, I'm eager to hear about your time away."  
  
'Yes, I'm sure you are, asshole,' I think to myself and aloud, I reply, "Well, I'm sure that Agent Vaughn filled you in, but in case he didn't, here goes. I woke up in Hong Kong about 48 hours ago and before that the last thing I remember was being in my apartment and fighting a woman I thought was Francie Calfo but it turns out was Allison, a woman who was working for Sark and Sloane. That is all there is to tell because that is all I remember."  
  
Kendall grins, "Well, that is what we are going to find out. I'm sure you can understand that I would be suspicious of your story considering your known ability to conceal your true motives and lead a double, or even triple life. We'll be running a series of tests on you and you will be required to meet with CIA psychologists for psych testing and regression therapy. Then, if everything gets cleared, I will be happy to release you and welcome you back to active duty."  
  
"Kendall, I don't think I am at all thrilled with the tone you have taken with my daughter," my dad speaks up, "She's been through quite an ordeal and if Sloane indeed had her, who knows what he did to her. I'd appreciate it if you would remember that she is an agent of this government and has served her country and given of herself time and time again. I recommend you remember that when you are treating her like a criminal."  
  
Kendall smirks, light gleaming off his bald head, "Jack, you defend your daughter so eloquently, I admire your dedication. Sydney, you need to come with me to medical services for testing, I'll give you the benefits of an unrestrained escort. Gentlemen, please excuse us."  
  
Will and my father stand back as Kendall takes me by the arm, leading me out of the cell.  
  
"I'll see you later, Syd," Will calls from behind us.  
  
At the end of the hall, the gate slides up and the door opens leading to the center of the Joint Task Force - it looks the same as the last time I saw it. I can't help but look in the direction of Vaughn's desk. But, instead of Vaughn, I see a short, blond woman is sitting in his chair.  
  
Kendall wordlessly takes me in the direction of medical services, a path that leads us almost directly across the room, in full view of everyone. I see a number of familiar faces, the people who have always been working away on one lead or another; the tech people who get me up to speed before a mission, the support staff who book flights and hotel rooms and always made sure my alibis passed Sloane's scrutiny. A number of them look up as I pass, giving me smiles tainted with pity or confusion, my appearance here is likely quite surprising to those who hadn't heard of my return. Some of the looks I'm given are suspicious, even mean, reflecting their misguided notions of where I have been and what I have been doing for the past two years.  
  
Before walking into the hallway that leads to doctors poking and prodding me for hours, we pass by an office and I see Vaughn sitting behind the desk, phone to his ear. Not only is he still with the CIA, he's gotten a promotion. So where was he asked back from? By chance he looks up as we pass his window, his expression is flat as he raises a hand. I mirror his action and feel Kendall pull against my arm, "Come on, Agent Bristow, they are waiting for us."  
  
* * *  
  
A few dozen tests later I am lying on a cot much more comfortable than the bed waiting for me in my cell. My nerves feel raw from all the needles that have been stuck in me and from being hooked up to a number of machines that remind me of torture devices. If any results have come back that haven't been shared with me.  
  
At lunchtime Will came by and ate with me, though I was only allowed chicken broth and a protein drink that tasted like strawberry chalk. I realized that I hadn't even asked Will what he had been doing in the past two years. He filled me in on his life. He is still working for the CIA and advancing in his position as an analyst. He works on the weekends at Francie's old restaurant, which her sister, Maureen, has taken over. He's dating a woman named Claire. They have been together for a little over four months. She works for the CIA as well but is based out of D.C. They met when she was called in to consult on a project Will was working on.  
  
Will also brought news about Dixon, Marshall, Weiss and my father. Dixon still hasn't gotten married since Diane's death, but he is happy simply raising his kids and trying to spend as much time with them as possible. Marshall sounds like he is as wacky as ever and has been dating another techie since my disappearance. Weiss is the big surprise; he has gotten married and divorced all in two years. The divorce was quite a shock to everyone but apparently Carol, his wife, was cheating on him with the mailman - how cliché. Will says that Weiss has handled it pretty well, though he groans every time he sees something related to the US Postal Service. My dad is another story. Will explained that he never gave up on me and has spent all his spare time tracking down lead after lead as to my whereabouts, all of which led to dead ends. About a month ago Weiss had called Will and asked him to come help take my dad home from a bar where he had passed out. Since that night he had been attending AA meetings and has assured Will that he was just having a bad night and that it won't happen again.  
  
Now, as I lay here, the world feels like it is weighing down on me but I know the only thing I can do is be honest and wait for this to all work itself out; they can't keep me locked up forever, eventually they have to release me. And then, well, then I figure out what I am going to do.  
  
I look up when I hear a noise at the door, psyching myself up for more needles and scopes.  
  
"How are you holding up?" Vaughn's voice brings goosebumps to the surface of my skin. "You look beat."  
  
"Hey, Vaughn," I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. "I'm fine, don't worry, I'm just taking a break from everything. This bed is nice and soft which is more than I can say for where I slept last night."  
  
"I'm sorry for that, Syd, I'll try to get you a better mattress," Vaughn walks over to stand in front of me. "That cell hasn't gotten a lot of use since your mother was in there."  
  
"Where is my mother," the mention of her piques my interest. "No one has said anything about her."  
  
"We're not sure. We have been looking for her almost as long as we looked for you. At first we kept finding evidence of her in different places but we were always a couple days too late in following her path and then one day everything just disappeared. Since then we hadn't found a thing. It's like she was leading us purposefully for the first part and then didn't want to be found at all, she is a smart woman, a woman whose motives are impossible to understand."  
  
I simply shrug and stare at my hands sitting in my lap; my arms dotted with bandages, reminders of the day's ordeal. I feel Vaughn's hand on my chin, drawing my face so he can see in my eyes.  
  
"Sydney, this is all going to be over soon and you will be out of here," Vaughn smiles. "They can't hold you without evidence and they have to take your record into consideration. Don't worry, everything is going to be all right."  
  
I know the words are supposed to comfort me and suppose on some level they do, but looking in his eyes and listening to him tell me that I am going to be free to live my life, to return to the real world makes want to punch him. I jerk my chin out of his hold and stand up from my seated position, pushing against his chest with both of my hands.  
  
"Screw you, Vaughn. When I get out of here things are not going to be the same. Things are not okay. Everyone else has gone on living their lives while I was gone, even grieving for me. But as for me, I have no idea where I have been and what has been done to me and I have lost two years of my life. My two years have gone unlived and that sucks - it's downright shitty. Don't you tell me not to worry, Vaughn, I'm not your problem to fix anymore. I don't blame you for getting married - you thought I was dead - but don't expect me to be okay with it, to just be able to pretend it doesn't matter and that my life is just fine."  
  
"Sydney, I didn't come here to upset you," Vaughn holds his hands up in peace.  
  
"I know, I know," I sit back down, "But I am upset, I can't help it. Give me some time, I'm sure I'll get over it, that I'll get over you. I mean I can't love a married man forever, can I?"  
  
The question hangs in the air and before Vaughn can respond I continue, "I've only had a day to get over you - give me another 20 months, maybe that will do the trick."  
  
I've hurt him; I can see it as soon as I look at him. His eyes have gone cold, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. I'm amazed with myself - how my emotions can fly from confused to betrayed to furious to sad in a matter of seconds. Silently, Vaughn turns to leave but quickly turns back to face me.  
  
"Sydney, you can think whatever you like, but whether I have gotten over you or not is only something I know and you can't tell me who or what is in my heart. But things have happened that are out of both of our controls and whether you are able to feel it or admit it, we have been apart for two years and I wish I could change that, I do," he throws his arms up in the air and light hits the ring on his left hand. "I'm married and hopefully you can someday understand why, but I didn't do it to hurt you. Losing you felt like losing a part of myself, I couldn't protect you but you are back and I will be damned if I am going to let your feelings of disappointment and betrayal keep me from making sure you are all right."  
  
"Do you love her, Vaughn," his tirade has had its intended effect, I feel horrible, "Does she love you? Are you happy?"  
  
"Why does it matter, Syd? I mean, do you really want to hear the answers?" He's avoiding my questions.  
  
"I don't ask questions if I don't want the answers to them."  
  
"Yes, she loves me and we're happy," Vaughn says flatly. "Look, I really have to go, I shouldn't have even stopped by. I'll check on you later tonight, before I leave."  
  
One of the doctors appears at the door before I can adequately reply so I simply nod and wave as he backs out of the room.  
  
I watch him walk down the hall and smile despite myself - he didn't answer my first question. He didn't say that he loved his wife.  
  
I truly am a Sydney/Vaughn fan, but I am taking my time with this, you will just have to be patient. Good things come to those who wait. Thanks for taking the time to read. Let me know if you want more. 


	3. Chapter Three

Thanks for the reviews – sorry, I didn't realize I was only accepting signed reviews – my mistake. All reviews are welcome. 

Enjoy chapter three!

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After my encounter with Vaughn I am feeling rather indifferent to my current situation. It didn't really matter where I was – I felt numb for the rest of the afternoon. 

My afternoon was filled with more medical tests and my first of many psych evaluations. Dr. Meadowbrook, a psychologist I don't remember from before, met with me for an hour, watching me as I took a short test. The test was much like the one I took when I first entered SD-6, asking questions aimed at revealing my loyalties and mental state. The doctor spent the last half of our session asking me about my reactions to people and things since waking up in Hong Kong and where I thought I had been the past two years. Having nothing to hide, I answered honestly, not caring if my feelings of betrayal with regard to Vaughn came right out into the open. What were they going to do, fire me for harboring feelings from two years ago, I had bitterly asked the psychologist.

Now, here I am again, home sweet home, happy to be alone with my thoughts. I am beat, is it possible to suffer from jetlag when you have no idea how long you were somewhere or what time zone you are used to living in? I sure don't know the answer to that. 

I guess my tiredness shouldn't come as a big surprise when I think about all I have been through in the past couple days. They told me that tomorrow I have physical testing – endurance, skill/defense testing, strength measurement – to see if I have maintained my physical abilities in my absence. I don't feel any weaker or different than I used to which is surprising because I find it hard to believe that Sloane would have had me working out if he was holding me. I actually laugh out loud when I think of myself running circles for exercise inside a cell much like this one. 

"What are you laughing at?" Will's voice calls from outside my cell. I hadn't even heard him come in – I guess maybe my abilities have lessened, or become dulled. 

"Oh, just a funny image of myself exercising in a 10 by 10 cell," I smile. "Just ignore me, my mind isn't quite normal right now."

"That's okay, it's just good to hear your laugh," Will motions to be let into the cell and once inside comes and sits next to me on the bed. I notice his right arm is hidden behind his back. "I brought you a present."

"A bubble bath? You shouldn't have."

"Good guess, but you are wrong, my friend," Will grins as he pulls out a take-out container and a delicious aroma reaches my nose. "Penne with pesto, pine nuts and sun-dried tomatoes – your favorite."

I can't even stop a silly grin from creeping onto my face, "Garlic bread?"

"Absolutely – what would pasta be without garlic bread?"

"You didn't make this yourself, did you?"

"Syd, I'm hurt, are you questioning my cooking skills?"

"Please, Will," I lift one eyebrow in his direction, "You have issues with cereal."

"One time," Will laughs, "One time I was out of milk and thought that powdered milk and water would work."

"Uh huh, whatever," I bump his shoulder with mine. "So, it's all right with the powers that be for me to eat this?"

"Yes, I mean, I did have to write a 12-page analysis on the effects of carbohydrate overload on a person enclosed in a small space. It turns out there are none."

"Great, give me my food," for the first time since, well, since I don't remember, I am feeling something that resembles happy. Happy to have one friend that hasn't changed and has seemed to survive the side-effects of being involved in my life with little or no damage. Will is still Will, happy to please his friends and ready with a joke in even the shittiest situations.

"Thanks, Will," I try talking through a mouthful of pasta.

"Ever the lady… you are very welcome, I feel like it is the least I could do. Vaughn is working on getting you a new mattress."

"Gee, maybe if I complain about the floor I can get some carpeting in here. Or, a halogen lamp instead of the fluorescent bulbs – they are hell on my complexion." Will frowns and I continue, "Sorry, I think I am getting a little loopy. I certainly appreciate the food."

"It wasn't easy for him, Syd," Will's voice changes tones to one more suitably somber.

"Yes, and I will not forget to thank him for the mattress, I really do appreciate it."

"No, not the mattress, though the CIA certainly doesn't place a huge importance on stocking new mattresses for their holding cells. I meant, that your being gone wasn't easy for him. He blamed himself for your being gone and couldn't come to grips with the idea that you weren't coming back. For the first year his life revolved around tracking your mom and following any lead that had the smell of Sloane about it. Finding you was his sole reason for living but he wasn't really living. He slept a few hours a night and ate meals behind his desk or standing up in his kitchen, Weiss and I were gradually able to get him to play basketball with us or a game of hockey and eventually he started going out for beers with us. He was relentless in his pursuit but even he knew he couldn't keep it up – his life would have been lost along with yours. He had to keep living, Syd."

I take a deep breath, swallowing thoroughly pulverized bite of food in my mouth. "So, what do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything but I would like you to cut him some slack. Giving up his fight for you was probably the hardest thing he ever had to do and after all was said and done he's not the same person he was before; giving up came with a big price tag, Vaughn's not a quitter but we couldn't let him kill himself." Will pauses to let his words sink in. "I know it seems unfair of me to ask anything of you considering what you have been through, but your life wasn't the only one affected by this whole thing. No doubt, you got the short end of the stick but the rest of us aren't really hanging onto the long end either."

I can't even begin to formulate a sentence at this point so I simply nod my head and take another bite of my meal, though I seem to have lost my appetite. 

"Don't be mad at me, Syd, I'm just trying to look out for both of you."

"I'm not mad, Will; I don't know what I am. Can we just not talk about this right now, I'm too tired to even think, let alone feel," I take Will's left hand in my right one and give it a small squeeze. 

Will and I chat for another ten minutes or so until his pager goes off, it's Marie. "Go and call her, I'll be all right. I really should get some sleep, who knows how many miles they will have me run tomorrow."

"Okay, sleep well, Syd," Will takes the food dish out of my hand and presses a kiss into my temple. "Don't forget to brush your teeth, your breath really smells now."

"Har, har," I mock glare at him, "Thanks for the food. Will I see you tomorrow?"

"You can count on it," Will stands at the door, looking back at me. "G'night, Syd."

"Good night, Will," I say as I swing my legs up on the bed, it doesn't look like I will be benefiting from a new mattress tonight. Will talks down the hall and the gate opening is the last thing I hear before I drift off.

*          *          *

_Vaughn comes into my room, fresh from the shower and smelling of soap and something else, I think it's Francie's face scrub. I giggle._

_"What are you laughing at," he asks as stands at the foot of the bed._

_"Oh nothing, I just didn't know you were into exfoliating."_

_"What are you talking about," he starts to protest but then I can see it dawns on him what I mean, "Hey, it said it was for sensitive skin prone to break outs and I almost got a zit last week worrying about you on that mission, you just can't be too careful. Besides, I noticed last week that you were smelling distinctly like my aftershave."_

_"I can't help it if I want to remember you during the day and put a little of your aftershave on my wrist so I could smell it and think of you," I smile sweetly at the gorgeous man in front of me as I rise up and scoot towards the edge of the bed._

_"Awww, aren't you sweet?"_

_"I don't know about that, Vaughn," I say coyly as I reach for him, skimming my fingertips over his stomach and up over his shoulders. "Right now I don't feel so sweet."_

_A rumble comes from the back of Vaughn's throat as I pull myself up, flush with his body. _

_"Come to bed," I whisper in his ear and start a trail of small kisses that leads me to his mouth, stopping there briefly before continuing on to his other ear. Finally he touches me, his hands tugging against my back, bringing me even closer to him. Then I feel him moving, one knee coming up onto the bed, pushing me back to where I was before until we are lying side-by-side, legs tangled together. Our kisses are sweet, seemingly innocent while our hands do the dirty work, teasing each other with feathering touches. _

_He brings a hand up to my cheek, deepening the kiss, tongues now fully engaged. And just as my mind starts to go hazy, he pulls away. It takes me a second to open my eyes and when I do I find him staring at me, his thumb drawing circles on my chin._

"God, I love you." 

I wake with a start and realize that someone is sitting on my bed, a familiar hand is stroking my cheek. But I know it was the sound of his voice and not his touch that has woken me up. 

"Vaughn?" The hand stops moving and pulls away, instantly my skin feels cold. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"I brought you a mattress," Vaughn's voice his husky, like he has been crying, but I can't see his face as the lights are all out aside from those in the hall and since his back is facing the hall, his face is further shadowed. "And it's not really the middle of the night, it's only eleven. They said that you went to bed at eight-thirty."

"Oh, guy, I haven't gone to bed that early since elementary school," I laugh at myself. "Still, eleven is pretty late to be at work, shouldn't you be at home, with…"

Vaughn cuts me off, "She's out of town until tomorrow, at a wedding."

I realize then, that that is probably where he was called back from. "I'm sorry, Vaughn, you should be there with her."

"No, it's all right," Vaughn shrugs, "She's with her friends and probably partying like a mad woman. She knows very well how demanding my job is – don't worry about it. So, you want to try out this mattress?"

His last sentence actually makes me laugh out loud, but my laughter is quickly cut short when Vaughn turns his head and I can see tears glistening on his cheeks from the light outside my cell. I quickly get off my bed and sit on the mattress on the floor in front of me. It is a nice mattress, I think it even has a pillow-top. 

"Vaughn, this is not your standard CIA-issue mattress."

"Yeah, well, it seemed that the CIA was fresh out of suitable mattresses so I went out and did a little shopping," Vaughn shrugs again, standing up to pull my current bed off its pedestal. "Want to help me get the new one in place?"

"Sure," I start to stand but lose my balance and fall back on my butt. Vaughn offers his hand to help me up and I take up, feeling my heart jump as I feel his fingers close around mine. But Vaughn is all business and drops my hand as soon is it is obvious that I am steady on my feet. He might be unaffected but my heart is pounding in my chest.

Together we lift the mattress up and into place. Vaughn reaches into a bag on the floor next to him and pulls out new sheets and a blanket – one that is not of the scratchy, wool variety. 

"Vaughn, this is too much, I can't imagine the CIA springing for all this for me."

"Well, they didn't but your dad and I did. We thought as long as you have to be here you might as well be comfortable."

"Vaughn, thank you," my voice cracks as I continue. "Thank you for being nice to me even though you have every reason to be mad and hate me. Even though I am upset about all this, I'm sorry to take it out on you."

"It's all right, Syd, you have the right to be upset and to question everything. You just hit some raw nerves this afternoon," Vaughn takes a step towards me. "We were, and still are, both exhausted – emotionally and physically – we are in a situation out of our control."

I single tear has found its way onto my cheek and Vaughn reaches up to brush it away before it has a chance to fall any further – my face, unlike his, is completely illuminated by the lights in the hall. I stand there, not moving, unsure of my feelings and wanting to keep my emotions in check.

"Sleep tight, Syd." Vaughn picks up the empty bag and kicks the old mattress over against the opposite wall.

I raise my hand and wave, knowing my voice cannot be trusted. Wearily I plop down onto my new bed, not bothering to arrange the new sheets over the mattress and instead pull the blanket around my body, creating a tight cocoon around myself. 

Tomorrow is another day.

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Thanks for reading – chapter four soon to come!


	4. Chapter Four

Thanks for the great reviews - I appreciate them very much! I could write these for myself but it's always nice to get feedback/criticism - whatever (though if you are going to criticize, be kind and helpful). Enjoy! ---------------  
  
I wake up shivering - my new blanket has found its way to the floor without my consent. Will's right - my breath could knock someone over. Thankfully I am allowed a toothbrush and toothpaste - apparently there is nothing dangerous to be done with either of these objects. My mind briefly flits across the image of me shoving my Pepsodent up a certain CIA director's ass - that thought definitely brightens my day.  
  
Down the hall I hear the gate open and footsteps coming towards me. Apparently someone was waiting for me to wake up.  
  
"Good morning, Sydney, I trust you slept well on your new mattress." It's Kendall.  
  
"Oh sir, I was just thinking of you," I turn and smile sweetly at the man behind the glass, I decide it is best to leave the toothpaste on the sink, "Yes, I slept very well last night, though I could do without the surroundings."  
  
"Patience," Kendall responds and for a minute I am reminded of Sloane and his patronizing lectures, blathering on and on in his creepy voice about things like patience and loyalty. But, unlike Sloane, Kendall continues with sarcasm, "Is not one of your strong points, is it Agent Bristow?"  
  
"I don't know about that, I have patience when it comes to the important things, like the people I care about, but when it comes to being held prisoner because I seem to have forgotten the past two years of my life, well, for that I have little patience. Are they ready for me this morning?"  
  
I walk to the door and wait to hear the inevitable click of the lock. Kendall pushes the door open and takes my arm once again. Our trip through the main operations room is pretty much the same as the day before but this morning Vaughn's office is empty.  
  
The first stop is a treadmill and plenty of monitors to check on my stamina and physical fitness. My last test like this with SD-6 proved that I could run 6 miles at a steady pace before I started slowing down, I finally had to stop running after 15. The CIA got possession of these tests after the Alliance fell so no doubt they are going to measure this new performance against my old one. I just hope I can make it to the 6 mile marker this time, though if I outperform my old standard I wonder if that will put yet another black mark on my record. I certainly can't fake exhaustion with all the machines they will have me hooked up to.  
  
Kendall leaves once I am delivered into the hands of one of the doctors I remember from yesterday, Dr. Melvin, I think her name was.  
  
"Hello, Sydney, I'm Dr. Melvin, we met yesterday."  
  
"Yes, I remember," I smile at her kind face. "What would you like me to do today?"  
  
"Simply run," Dr. Melvin replies, "We'll be monitoring your vital signs, adrenaline, fluid outtake - all the important things. We just want you to run however you feel comfortable until you can't run anymore."  
  
Well, I was right, it looks like they want to see how I measure up to my former self. Dr. Melvin gives me a change of clothes - running shorts and a tank top - and leaves the room so I can change.  
  
Ten minutes later she is back and hooking me up to the various machines in the room. A panel on the opposite wall rises, revealing an observation deck of sorts, behind the window I see a number of other doctors, some with familiar faces and some without. Oh great, an audience.  
  
Dr. Melvin joins her colleagues behind the glass and speaks into a microphone, voice echoing into the room I am in. "Go ahead, Sydney, whenever you are ready, just start running."  
  
I hate tests like this, I think to myself as I step onto the treadmill, I feel like a laboratory rat made to run around in an exercise wheel. Though I guess that analogy isn't too far from the truth. Oh well, aside from throwing a hissy fit, I don't think there is anything I can really do, so I start running.  
  
Running feels just like it always has - a way for me to think and to get out my frustrations. As much as I hate being watching and tested, I love to run, and after a half hour or so, I am simply focused on continuing on, clearing my head of everything that has happened and concentrating on my breathing and my goal - to get out of the Joint Task Force as soon as I possibly can.  
  
I'm not sure how far I run but after a few hours I have to stop, I need water and my legs feel like jello. I push a button, shutting off the conveyor and sit down on it with my legs hanging off the end. Thankfully they have left me water, I pick up a bottle and guzzle the cool liquid down, my legs are throbbing and my arms are tired from pumping back and forth.  
  
Dr. Melvin comes back into the room, "Very good, Sydney. I'm impressed - I hate to run. It's just so monotonous."  
  
"I used to think so too, but now, now it feels like an escape. And I guess I like that feeling."  
  
"Well, it looks like we should get you something to eat." Dr. Melvin consults a chart in her hand and I wonder if they have my whole regimen charted out for the day. 'Have her run, feed her, poke her some more, make idle chitchat, don't give any indication that she will ever leave here or that the tests will ever end.'  
  
I play with the edge of my shorts and offer the woman in front of me a half- hearted smile, "Do you think I could take a shower? I haven't had one since I was in Hong Kong two days ago and after this I feel completely disgusting."  
  
"I don't see why not," she looks at her chart again and then up at the window at someone on the other side, "Let me check on that. I know we have some more physical testing to do today so you are bound to get sweaty again, but I understand how you must feel."  
  
A third person enters the room, it's Agent Armstrong from my first night back. "Good morning, Agent Bristow, I've been assigned to accompany you for the day. I was just given word that you requested a shower. Are you ready to go?"  
  
"Um, sure, thanks." I get up, looking around to gather my change of clothes and notice they have been removed from the room - when did that happen? I must have been pretty focused when I was running to not notice someone coming into the room.  
  
Agent Armstrong takes me by the arm and walks me out into the hall, turning away from the main room and my cell. We walk in silence down the first two corridors before I have to break the silence. "You can call me Sydney if you want to. I don't feel much like an agent right now and it seems sort of silly to keep up the pretence if you are going to be accompanying me to the shower."  
  
My quest for a smile on the serious face next to me is rewarded with slightly upturned lips, a small dimple appears on the cheek that I can see. "You are welcome to call me Bryce, but despite the way you feel, you are still an agent of the government and as such deserve to be treated with respect. Technically, you would be my superior."  
  
"Ah, that's just semantics, Bryce, in reality, I am a prisoner and you are my guard."  
  
"True, but there seems to be no question in anyone's mind, at least those who know you, that you will be getting out of here soon. You can understand that someone with your skill level needs to be examined closely, because on the off-chance that you have turned, we wouldn't want you lose in the CIA, no would we?"  
  
"Touché. One question, where exactly would I have turned to - the Dark Side?" I can't help but tease him, hoping to lift some of the heaviness off of my day.  
  
"Here we are," Bryce appears to be a tough nut to crack, he didn't even show a glimmer of a smile at my last comment.  
  
"Come on, lighten up a bit, Agent Armstrong. I'm the one whose life is screwed, if I can joke, the least you can do is laugh."  
  
"Sydney," his voice is reproachful, "I appreciate your lightheartedness, God knows most people wouldn't be like that in your situation. But you have quite a reputation in the agency as a stellar performer, a true asset to your country and I find it hard to make light of what has happened."  
  
"Trust me, Bryce, I'm anything about lighthearted but sometimes being stoic and playing the martyr is something I like to take a break from, reality hits soon enough and then I can't tell you what my emotions will be like but I can assure you that they won't be jovial."  
  
Finally a real smile from Agent Armstrong, "Fair enough, I will try to laugh at your pathetic attempts at humor. Now go take a shower, hopefully it will make you feel better."  
  
"It can't hurt," I smile one more time at my new-found friend as I enter the bathroom.  
  
A fresh change of clothes and a clean towel are already waiting for me inside - the CIA is ever the efficient little machine. I strip out of my sweaty clothes and turn on the hot water in the stand-up stall. What I wouldn't give for an actual bath. Waiting for the water to heat up, I look down at my body - it still looks the same, aside from the scar on my abdomen, and it feels the same to me - it's so strange that two years have passed and I don't appear to have changed, at least not on the outside. I will have to remember to ask one of the doctors about the scar, I totally forgot about it yesterday.  
  
Steam is rising up now so I add a little cold to the mix and step under the water. I'm prompted to move only after my stomach growls and I realize that I am quite hungry. I hope there is something more than broth waiting for me today.  
  
Once my shower is done and I am feeling much fresher, I pull on the new clothes: yoga pants and another tank top. Bryce is leaning against the opposite wall as I come out and he pushes himself forward as I step into the hall. "Feel better?"  
  
"Much," I brush my wet hair out of my eyes, "Now I just need a comb and something to eat - I'm famished!"  
  
"Both of those sound easy enough, let's go," he takes my arm once again and we are off in search of food.  
  
* * *  
  
Lunch was quick and forgettable, the food at least, the company was much better. Will and Dixon were able to join me as I was getting done with my tuna salad sandwich and pasta salad. Dixon looks as good as ever, better certainly that the last few times I had seen him. He has been thinking about asking out one of his neighbors that moved in a few months ago but he doesn't want to start something if it isn't going to go anywhere. Hearing Dixon fret over the dating scene is actually quite sweet - maybe he and I can go out on the town when I am free. That thought makes me want to kick myself for remembering that I, too, am a single person again.  
  
Will brought news that my father had had to follow a possible lead about Sloane, the first in months. Since I don't typically see my dad on a daily basis it doesn't seem strange to have not seen him since yesterday morning. But there is one person that I am missing like crazy, Vaughn has been MIA since last night. Though I can't blame him for avoiding me, mattress or not, an encounter between us can only prove to be awkward or volatile. Probably best for us to have a break from each other, as much as I want to see him.  
  
After Will and Dixon leave, Bryce is back to take me to the training room. The training room is where I have spent many hours practicing new fighting techniques and variations on old ones. It's here that I have learned all forms of combat. One of the agency's instructors is waiting for me on the mat.  
  
"Agent Armstrong," the well-muscled man nods at Bryce and turns his attention to me, "Agent Bristow, welcome, I am Agent Rick Sherman, special forces trainer. This afternoon I am going to run you through a series of drills to test your skill level in a number of combat forms. Just so you are aware, we'll be videotaping your performance."  
  
I follow his gestures and see a number of cameras pointing at different places around the room, ready to capture my moves at any angle. Super.  
  
Bryce waves as he exits the room, leaving me alone with Agent Sherman.  
  
"Do you feel that you have fully digested your lunch? We are going to start with stretches to make sure we don't damage your body before starting in with the testing. Does that sound okay?"  
  
"That sounds fine. Starting now won't be a problem."  
  
The next few hours are filled with my following Sherman's every instruction, no matter what type of combat or weapon he has me demonstrating, I am able to spar against him without problem. Somewhere in the third hour he starts testing my instincts, coming at me instead of waiting to see what my moves will be and reacting to them. He is good, physically stronger and bigger as well as quite quick on his feet, definitely skilled at what he is doing.  
  
I have worked up quite a sweat when I hear the door open behind us. "Sorry, I'm late, traffic was a bitch today."  
  
A woman about my same build has entered the room in an almost identical outfit. She has flaming red hair and a face full of freckles, I don't remember her from before.  
  
"Not a problem, we were just finishing up here," Sherman tosses the wooden rod he has been using towards one of the walls, it hits the floor with a crash and then quietly rolls to a stop. I mimic his actions. "Now I'm going to have you fight with Agent Edwards. I want to see how you do against someone of the same build and who is at the same physical ability level as yourself. This will just be hand-to-hand practice, but try not to hold back, I won't let you hurt each other too much."  
  
It would appear that the woman who entered the room is my new "enemy." I hate this part, the all out fighting with a person who I don't even know, let alone hate on principle. It is one with to go against the bad guys, but another to be doing this with someone who is on my side. Rick wraps both of our hands and gets us ready to go.  
  
Agent Edwards doesn't seem to share my hesitation, a few minutes into our sparring she strikes out and jabs me in the gut. Reflexively, I double over, but I am ready for her - two can play at this game. When she comes in to kick me, I react with speed and accuracy, fist flying into her hamstring. My punch as the desired effect and I feel like smiling as I see her fall to the floor, this feels good. We go back and forth for a while, blocking each others' advances with ease. I am able to get in a few whacks to her back when she spins away from my foot flying through the air.  
  
Sherman, who has been watching in silence, finally speaks up, "Don't let your guard down, Melanie."  
  
Upon hearing Sherman speak, I see a change in the woman; her eyes, steely before, now have a gleam in them. She is coming after me. I, on the other hand, suddenly feel worn down, her first name shoots straight to my heart, this can't be the same woman.  
  
"Melanie, huh?" I question, trying to sound nonchalant. I slice my arm through the air, connecting solidly with her shoulder and flip my arm back to knock her in the jaw.  
  
"Melanie Edwards," she smiles at me, seemingly unaffected by my last attach, an unsettling twinkle in her eye, "But some people call me Melanie Vaughn."  
  
A leg comes flying out of nowhere and knocks my own legs out from under me, I hit the floor with a thud, air rushing out of my lungs. I can't breathe and roll to my side, feeling her foot connect with my back, sending a jolt of pain that seems to reach my toes and my head at the same time. Then I feel it, the blackness coming on.  
  
"Melanie, that's enough," Sherman's voice sounds like it is miles away, echoing in a canyon. "Go cool down. Agent Bristow, are you all right?"  
  
I want to move, to show that I am fine, that she hasn't beat me, but my body won't cooperate with my will. 'God help me,' I cry out without making a sound.  
  
"Did you say Agent Bristow? This is the infamous Sydney Bristow - I thought you brought me in to test out a new recruit."  
  
"Yes, this is Sydney Bristow, we didn't want you to hold back with her, we wanted a real challenge." Sherman explains, though I feel like I can barely hear him over the pounding in my head.  
  
"Well, I wasn't trying to hurt her," her voice, unlike his, rings clearly in my head and I realize that I hate it more than any sound I have ever heard, "I was just testing her, seeing what she was made of, apparently she is more easily broken then we thought."  
  
And finally the blackness has me fully in its hold, taking me into the unconscious.  
  
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Okay, what did you think? Sorry to leave out Vaughn this time around, but you can be sure that he will figure prominently in the coming chapter. 


	5. Chapter Five

Once again I have enjoyed the reviews I am getting. I hate Melanie, too, so don't worry. 

Enjoy!

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I open my eyes and find myself staring at the ceiling in an unfamiliar room. For a moment I have no idea what the hell is going on, that is until I lift my arm to my head feel the pain throbbing through my entire body. Right, Vaughn's wife kicked my ass, how fitting.

"Looks like you've come back to join us," an entirely too cheerful voice interrupts my thoughts. "You were out pretty cold there for a while – your body's way of regrouping. When Agent Armstrong brought you in we thought you had tried to escape and he had been forced to immobilize you; we've never had something like this happen in the training room – a few bruises maybe, but that's all."

A nurse is standing over me smiling, flashing a light into each of my eyes; she's lucky any movement of force is impossible because I am quite tempted to give her a swift kick to the head.

"Can I get some pain killers or something," I mumble, my tongue feeling like a giant cotton ball in my mouth, "And a glass of water."

"Let me just get the doctor, we were waiting until you woke up to give you anything for the pain, we wanted to make sure you'd regain consciousness as quickly as possible."

"How long was I out?"

"Only about 45 minutes," the pert little nurse smiles at me, "Don't worry though, all your vital signs are fine, you just got knocked around a bit."

"You could say that again," I mutter under my breath.

"You sit tight a minute, I'll be right back with something to take the edge off." She is out of the room in a flash, taking all her happy energy with her.

I lie still on the bed, thinking about how I have spent much of my time since waking up in Hong Kong, sitting, laying or sleeping in beds – it's quite ridiculous. It has been a long time since I have felt this awful physically and seems only right that the woman who put me here is the same woman who is in part responsible for the emotional beating I have been taking. Though I can bet it will be a long time before we are alone together in a room again, Melanie better watch her back – Vaughn or no Vaughn, I'd kick her ass in a minute if given the opportunity.

Before I can continue my thoughts of tearing ever strand of red hair out of her head, the door to my room swings inward and open. I look up, wondering if it is Vaughn, hoping that he will have thrown his wife to the wayside for beating me up. Damn, it's only another doctor, but he looks to be carrying pills and water so it's not all bad.

"Agent Murphy said you were asking for some medication and water?" He smiles warmly and I can't help but smile back, the man is probably in his mid-sixties and I instantly feel soothed by his presence. "I'm sorry to say that I can only give you ibuprofen but it should do the trick, just not as fast as some of the other stuff."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," I say, taking the small cup holding the pills and the water bottle from him. I sit up, ignoring the pain that is trying to keep me flat against the bed and down the caplets with a huge gulp of water and continue drinking until the bottle is empty.

"Very good," the doctor approves, I half expect him to pat me on the knee and give me a lollipop. "Agent Armstrong is going to take you back to your cell if you are able to walk.  We think it's best to take a break from testing for the rest of the day."

On cue, Bryce enters the room, coming straight to my side, "Good to see you up and alert. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," I offer a weak smile, "Is there any way we could make a pit stop at the shower again?"

"I don't see why not, I'm sure they are willing to be quite accommodating considered what went down this afternoon." 

Bryce offers his arm and I take it, pulling myself off the bed. My legs are a little unsteady and Bryce moves to wrap his arm around my waist. By the time we get to the bathroom I am feeling much better, though my muscles have tightened up significantly from all the strain they have endured today.

After a hot shower and another change of clothes, I am almost back to normal, though still a little worse for the wear. This kind of exertion is nothing new to me, but I doubt I have seen this much action since my fight with Allison two years ago, so it's bound to take its toll.

When I exit the bathroom, Bryce takes my arm, more out of sympathy than out of a need to keep me secure. We walk silently towards the main room. I feel like I have to psych myself up to walk through the room, like a fallen soldier returning to the home front.

"Hey, I forgot to tell you, Will Tippin came by while you were in the shower, he said he would bring dinner by after a meeting he was going to, sometime around 6:30 or 7:00."

"Oh, thanks."

Bryce moves ahead of me to open the door for the both of us and pushes me gently through in front of him. I'm almost surprised when no one turns to stare at me as I enter the room, but I can't say that I am not thankful. I quickly glance around the room to see if either of the Vaughns are in sight – at the moment I am not looking forward to seeing Mr. or Mrs.

Midway through the room, Agent Sherman approaches Bryce and I. "Agent Bristow, I'm glad to see you back on your feet. I'm very sorry about this afternoon, Agent Edwards tends to get a little zealous with new recruits and I had told her that is what you were, she feels terrible about what happened, as do I."

"It's not your fault, I just paused and didn't keep my guard up, sometimes that happens. I can't blame her for taking advantage of the situation, I probably would have if I were her," I give the most honest, gracious answer I can; I'm still pissed off but my anger doesn't make anything any better, I'll save my venting for counseling sessions – I'm sure there are many more of those to come.

We make it back to my cell without any other encounters. And Bryce leaves me once I have promised him that I will get lots of rest and think of a joke to tell him in the morning. I feel like explaining to him that my whole life is a joke so really he only needs to look at me in lieu of a punch line, but I don't want to chance another lecture on looking at the bright side of things and remembering who it is that I am supposed to be: Spy Girl Extraordinaire. 

I flop down on my bed and ignore the fact that my sheets are still in a pile sitting at the end of it (no CIA maid service for me) and curl into a fetal position, pulling the blanket off the floor and back around my body. I'll just sleep until Will comes with my supper.

*          *            *

I wake up pretty stiff, muscles tight from an abrupt end to their use. Will still hasn't come with food, even though the clock in the hall says it is close to eight, the meeting must have gone long. I decide to stretch out before he comes, hoping to alleviate a few days worth of sore muscles and aching joints. 

A half an hour later my stomach is beginning to growl and still there is no sign of Will. Have I been forgotten in my lone cell? Then I hear it, the gate sliding up and into the ceiling, finally.

"You're late," I call out as I bend forward to touch the floor in front of me.

"Sorry, something came up," Vaughn's voice brings flying out of my stretch. "Will thought it would be a good idea if I brought your food."

"What, as a peace offering for your wife beating me up? That's sweet," I laugh sarcastically, not really meaning to take my anger out on this man, but letting it flow none-the-less, "For that I just might let you in my cell."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what they were thinking by having the two of you spar, it wasn't the best plan," Vaughn's forehead becomes lined with wrinkles and I notice a few new ones have made a home there.

"I'm sorry too, it's not your fault, or maybe even her fault for that matter. I don't think she knew who I was until afterwards. And I only found out it was her right before she knocked my feet out from under me. I can't say it makes me like her all that much, but even if we had met under other circumstances I still think I would hate her."

"She is a nice woman and normally very mild…" he sounds like he is defending her which makes the bile rise up in my throat.

I interrupt, "We didn't meet, Vaughn, she knocked me out and learned who I was in the process. And even though she acted like she didn't know who I was, I find it hard to believe that she actually thought she was training with a new recruit, or that she would have treated anyone else the way she treated me."

"Yes, Melanie's actions were out of line and I am surprised too," Vaughn is still standing in the doorway, as if waiting for permission to enter. "Look, I'm not defending her, but please don't get mad at me about it, I was out at another site all day and if I had known what Sherman had planned I would not have let it happen."

We stand there, facing each other until I finally relent and move aside for him to enter.

"Come on in," I'm too tired to argue or ask how he would have rather had us meet, at a cozy dinner at his place or in passing out in the operations center – no matter how we met I'm quite certain she would have knocked me out. "Let's just not talk about her right now, I am starving. What did you bring me?"

"Chicken Marsala," he follows me over to sit down on my sole piece of furniture, the bed. "It's from Francie's restaurant, I guess Dixon ran out and got it for you."

"Yum, please pass my thanks along," I rub my hands together in anticipation. There are two takeout containers; looks like Vaughn will be eating with me tonight. "Haven't you eaten yet?"

Vaughn shakes his head as he hands me my meal, "No time, I didn't get back here until fifteen minutes ago, it's been a long day."

We eat quietly for a while. The food is delicious and I concentrate on chewing each bite thoroughly, feeling more and more awkward after each one.

Finally I have to say something, "So, what are you working on, can you tell me?" 

"Just following up on a lead that came in before you came back and doing research at an outside facility; pretty boring stuff but time-consuming and necessary."

"Have there been and leads to show how I ended up in Hong Kong or where I came from?" 

"Nothing so far, at least not that I know of, but another team is working at that right now, I just read the reports as they pass over my desk. If something were to come up then I would look into it." Vaughn leans over to grab something from the bag he carried in, "I almost forgot."

In his hand he has a small bottle of milk. I love having milk with my meals. That is something from my childhood – I remember it from before my mom leaving, I always had to have a glass of milk with dinner and as I grew older my dad made sure whatever nanny was staying with me poured me at least one glass of milk for dinner, sometimes two. Vaughn used to laugh at me because I ordered milk on occasion at a nice restaurant instead of a glass of wine.

"So who do I owe thanks for the milk?"

"That would be me, I stopped by a store on my way back here, I thought you might be missing your daily dose of lactose," Vaughn smiles but his eyes have turned sad again.

"I'm glad you remembered."

"Sydney, I haven't forgotten anything, please don't think that I have. Just because I have gotten married doesn't mean…" Vaughn stops himself before continuing, "It's just complicated, that's all."

No doubt the encounter this afternoon hasn't made things any more clear. "I know, you are an honorable man and you have made a commitment to another woman. You and I weren't even dating that long, aside from the fact you thought I was dead. Who knows what would have happened between us?"

"I know what would have happened," Vaughn sets his dish down and takes the things out of my hands, setting them on the floor next to his. "It should have been us, Syd, us getting married. And it probably would've happened pretty soon after that night."

I hold up my hand, which Vaughn takes and folds between his own. "I don't want to hear this, Vaughn, it doesn't make it any better or easier or hurt any less."

"I know you don't want to hear it but I think you have to, I want you to. I want you to know that I didn't give up on you, that I didn't stop loving you. You are right, I am an honorable man, I stand by my commitments, but Sydney, some commitments aren't meant to last forever. Please, just be patient with me, hopefully someday I can give you what you want."

I feel the tears on my cheeks before I realize that I am even crying. How can he say this to me and then go home to another woman? How can I want him to break someone else's heart, to break a promise he has made to someone else? Yet how can I not want him for myself?

"Okay," is all I am able to get out. 

Vaughn reaches out to wipe the tears from my eyes and cheeks, "No more crying, Syd."

All I want to do is lay down on this bed and pull Vaughn's arms around me, to feel his chest rise and fall against my back, but that is not going to happen. Not tonight and maybe not ever. I just don't see how Vaughn is going to extract himself from the life he has built. But I will take what I can get and right now feeling his touch on my skin has to be enough for me.

"Why don't you drink your milk and then we can make your bed properly," Vaughn grins at me, "You never were very good at making the bed."

"Whatever, Vaughn, you're lucky we never went to your apartment, I'm sure I would have found plenty of flaws there," the mood is successfully lightened.

I reluctantly let go of Vaughn's hand and reach for my drink. Four large, purposefully audible, gulps and the bottle is empty.

"Gee, if I had know you would drink that down so quickly I would have brought a few more."

Vaughn hops up off the bed, tugging my hand to get me up as well. Rolling his eyes, he pulls the wrinkled blanket off of the bed and picks up the sheets from the other end. "You get that end and I will get this end."

Together we get the corners of the mattress into the fitted sheet and Vaughn whips the top sheet open so it floats down like a cloud onto the bed, he repeats the motion with the blanket, leaving me to smooth out the wrinkles. Once the ends of the sheet and the blanket are tucked beneath the mattress we are done with the task.

"We'll see how long that lasts," Vaughn teases. "I never could understand how you could be so ordered in every part of your life but your bed would be a mess."

It's my turn to roll my eyes at him as I bend down to pick our trash up off the floor, my shirt sliding up my waist.

"That's quite a beauty, Syd, did you have that in Hong Kong?"

"What?"

Vaughn reaches over and pulls up the back of my shirt, "That huge bruise on your back."

I turn to try and get a glance at what he is talking about, but end up spinning around in a circle, unable to see anything. Vaughn removes the trash from my hands, stowing it back in the bag before leading me across the room to the mirror above the sink. He turns me so I am facing him and lifts my shirt again; looking over my shoulder I can see a football-sized bruise just below my ribcage.

"No, that's a new one."

"How did that happen, Melanie said she knocked your legs out from under you, I don't think you would have gotten that bruise from that happening, though you probably have one on your tailbone. Did Sherman do it when you were sparring?"

"No, it wasn't Sherman," I'm not quite sure how to tell Vaughn that his wife sucker-punched me, better to be honest, "It's from Melanie, after she knocked me down and I rolled to my side and she kicked me. Pretty hard too, judging from the speed of the pain that went shooting through my body. I guess she likes to finish what she starts."

I move my eyes from the mirror and shift my head back so I can look at Vaughn. I notice that one hand is still on my back, holding my shirt up, while the other is resting on my hip. But when I look at his face, he isn't looking back at me, but instead at the mirror and no doubt at the bruise on my back. 

I have never seen him this angry. As I watch his face I can see that his green eyes are brimming with rage. "I can't believe she did this to you," he spits the words out.

"Vaughn, it's okay, I'll be fine, it really doesn't hurt that much," I don't know why I am trying to protect her from this.

He moves his hand and firmly presses it into my back, causing me to wince and quickly suck in the breath that I was taking. His eyes to shift down to mine, one eyebrow raised to make his point. But his point is lost on me, my focus is now on his lips, so close after his demonstration had caused me to move slightly forward. I can feel myself drawing closer to them, anticipating their union. 

"No." A single word stops me in my tracks; I look quizzically at Vaughn, who is motioning with his eyes in the direction of the camera over his shoulder. Silently he mouths, "Not here, not now."

Vaughn's hands drop to his sides and he steps back from me, his eyes locked with mine. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Syd, I have to go take care of something now," Vaughn breaks eye contact as he turns to retrieve the garbage from the floor. 

I am still standing in front of the sink as he exits the cell. "Good night, Vaughn, get some sleep."

"You, too," he tosses a killer smile my way and I almost groan thinking that just seconds ago those lips were almost on mine.

And then he is gone and I'm alone, but I can't help but smirk when I think of Vaughn's next encounter with his wife. It's too bad for her she doesn't have better control of her actions, I would gladly suffer a few bruises and a couple days of soreness if it meant that Vaughn would be mine. And here I never thought I would be a home wreaker, the kind of woman who breaks up a marriage, but here I am, hoping for a marriage to end.

I can only hope that the days get better from here.

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Thanks for reading (again!), I hope you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for more; I have a little plot worked out in my head that I think people will like. Oh yes, I am on vacation until next Monday (7/28) so you will have to wait a while for an update, but I will be writing while I am gone!


	6. Chapter Six

Hey there - sorry for the break between updates - I am back from vacation and quite refreshed. Thank you so much for all the great reviews - they definitely inspire me to keep writing!  
  
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You know it's going to be a bad day when you wake up with a headache already pounding behind your eyes and you haven't even lifted your head off of the pillow. It is going to be one of those days, I'm not feeling like today will be any better than yesterday.  
  
My eyes feel like I have been crying for hours - swollen and dry. For the first time I haven't had to cry myself to sleep but my subconscious got the best of me, I dreamt of Vaughn last night.  
  
We were walking in this park by my house, where Will and I used to go running; it was a gorgeous spring day and we were holding hands. There were families all around us, playing Frisbee, having picnics, just living normal lives. Then Vaughn stopped and turned to me and before I knew what he was doing, he was down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box out of his jacket.  
  
The words I longed to hear from him came tumbling out and I eagerly accepted his proposal, tears of joy springing up in my eyes. But as he reached for my hand I noticed that the people that had been around us were suddenly all paying attention, well, more than paying attention, they seemed to be surrounding us - mothers, fathers, teenagers and toddlers. The crowd started closing in and two of the bigger men stepped forward and grabbed Vaughn, dragging him to his feet and away from me. I reached out for him but he was out of my grasp and they kept pulling him further and further away from me.  
  
It seemed like everything was in slow motion, Vaughn was getting smaller and smaller in my line of sight but I could hear him calling my name and asking what I had done to him. But I couldn't get to him, my legs wouldn't move; I was paralyzed with fear that they would hurt him, not that they would hurt me. Then I felt small fingers wrapping around my hand and I looked down at this little blond boy, who appeared to be around four or five. He smiled at me but the smile was far from innocent, if possible it seemed sinister. I looked back at Vaughn's retreating figure and then I heard the voice.  
  
'You didn't think I would actually let you be happy, let you live a normal life.' I turned back to the boy and found it was Sloane who was holding my hand, patting it with his other hand. 'No, my dear, I have bigger plans for you and they don't involve your happiness.'  
  
I cried out and tried to pull away from Sloane but his grip was too tight. And then everything falls silent as I hear a single gun shot come from the direction Vaughn was being taken.  
  
'There, now I think you might be more cooperative, given you have nothing to live for,' Sloane says, still smiling. His face is all I can see, blurred only by my tears. And then I woke up.  
  
I had the dream more than once last night, the exact same each time. Thinking of it now makes me shiver. I know it was only a dream but still it gives me chills. I pull the blanket tightly around me in an effort to keep the world at bay.  
  
I'm suddenly aware of another person in the room; whoever it is they haven't moved or made single sound since I woke up but still I know they are there. The question is who is it that is standing in my cell and do I want to roll over and face them. There is a short list of people I actually want to see as opposed to the long list of those I wish to avoid like the plague.  
  
They probably aren't leaving anytime soon if they are here this early and they are also probably aware that I am no longer sleeping. Here goes nothing. I roll over, blinking at the light as it hits my eyes.  
  
"Morning, Syd," Will says in his cheery, you-look-like-shit voice, a voice often used the next morning after two many margaritas have been consumed by Francie or I. "You're looking quite ravishing this morning."  
  
I throw my pillow at him in mock anger, but am glad to see him as he is on the short list, "Screw you."  
  
"That seals it, you are definitely going to have to enter a beauty contest - you've got the looks and the eloquence of a future Miss America."  
  
Lord, I hate it when he is like this - flippant yet endearing - this act usually occurs when he is trying to avoid an awkward subject.  
  
"So, do you hate me for handing off my dinner duties?" Ah, he's feeling guilty.  
  
"I guess not, it wasn't so bad, I couldn't avoid him forever," I laugh at the irony of my situation and have to explain as Will looks at my quizzically, "Well, I am kind of a captive audience so there is really only so much avoiding I could have done."  
  
"You could have buried yourself under the covers like you were trying to do just now," Will reaches out and tousles my hair. "Come on, get out of bed, it's time to face the day."  
  
"Yippee," I mumble as I slowly rise off the bed. I think I am in more pain today than I was yesterday - stiff muscles, the aforementioned aching head and a burning pain in my lower back thanks to dear old Melanie, the bitch.  
  
"Easy there, Syd, you're moving slower than my grandmother," Will moves to put his arm around my waist and accidentally applies unwanted pressure on my latest battle wound. I cry out more surprised that it hurts so much than from the actual pain. "God, Syd, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"  
  
"Not you, Will," I offer him a weak smile, moving out of his grasp and over to the sink to splash water on my face. "Melanie is the person I can thank for my current state, though, in her defense, I did leave myself wide open. And who can blame her, really, I might have sucker-punched the ex of my husband if given the chance. Of course, I would have to be married first for that to happen and she claims she didn't know it was me she was fighting. Ugh."  
  
"Syd, you can't seriously be blaming yourself for what happened," Will's says from behind me as I cover my face with ice cold water. "You didn't deserve what happened and you would not have done the same thing. I am quite surprised Melanie acted the way she did. She spars with new recruits because she is good at it, not because she kicks the shit out of them."  
  
"Will, I don't want to hear how this is so unlike Melanie, how she is so great and just must have gotten carried away," I spin around to face him, "I don't care about her, I don't care what she is like. I've met her now and I am pretty sure that I know all I need to know."  
  
"Syd, calm down, I am not the enemy here and neither is Melanie and I am not defending her by saying that, I promise you," Will puts his hands on my arms, gripping my shoulders. "This sucks, I'm not going to lie to you about that, but you can't let it bring you down."  
  
I interrupt him before I have to hear another saccharine-laced sentiment, "Will, you know I love you, but I swear to God, if you are about to say something about there being other fish in the sea, I will kick your ass. Let's just drop it, I will save my unloading for Dr. Barnett. So, what's on my schedule for today?"  
  
Will looks at me doubtfully, but doesn't push his luck, "Regression therapy, they decided that there wouldn't be any more physical testing needed, you held your own and appear to be in the same, if not better, shape that you were when you disappeared."  
  
"Okay, bring it on," I give Will a genuine smile and all is forgiven, "Say a little prayer that I am able to remember something."  
  
"Syd, just your being here is a miracle," Will hugs me and I return his embrace with a fierce one of my own, "I think I may have used up my quota of prayers."  
  
"Will, I think we are given unlimited prayers, besides, it doesn't hurt to keep trying," I seem to have gained a religious depth in my absence. "Hey, were you here with a purpose this morning?"  
  
"I just wanted to check in on you," he steps away from me and towards the door. "Armstrong was afraid to come in on his own."  
  
"Oh please, you're only half the man he is, the guy is like a brick wall."  
  
"I don't know if I appreciate that comment," I hear Bryce's voice before I see him appear in front of my cell.  
  
"I didn't say you had the intelligence of a brick wall," I flash him one of my charming smiles, "Morning, Bryce."  
  
Will shakes his head as he trades places with Bryce, "I'll see you later, Syd." With that he is off down the hall, catching my eye as he goes and putting his hands together in a prayer-like fashion and nodding.  
  
"Good morning, how are you feeling today?" Bryce asks politely though I am quite certain he either heard the exchange between Will and I from the hallway or the observation deck in the ops center.  
  
"Just great, I might have to try out a few wind sprints today," my smile falters as the image of Vaughn in the hospital bed, sick from the liquid in the big red bubble, enters my mind. I had told him that he would be doing wind sprints before he knew it.  
  
"Good to hear," Bryce ignores my sad expression, but continues with care, "Listen, I know you had a bad night last night, the agent covering night duty said you appeared to be having nightmares, so if you feel like you need a break or want to stop, you just give me a sign and I will get you out of there."  
  
"Sounds like a plan, thanks. Here's the secret code," I demonstrate by wiping the back of my right hand across my forehead in an I'm-so-wiped-out manner. "Got it?"  
  
"Easy enough, " Bryce takes my arm but pauses before leading me out of the cell, "I don't know if I should say anything but I think this is something you might enjoy knowing."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I mean, I know that you and Agent Vaughn were involved before you disappeared and if I were you I guess I would want to know."  
  
"Spit it out, Bryce, don't worry about me, I can handle it." I wonder what in the hell he is talking about, then a sick idea takes hold in my mind "Is Melanie pregnant?"  
  
"No, God, no," Bryce sighs, "Shit, now I feel sort of stupid, like a schoolgirl spreading gossip. Maybe I shouldn't say anything."  
  
"Bryce, I am a woman apart, I'd say it is in your best interest to continue with whatever you were going to say."  
  
"Okay, but first let me ask you something - Vaughn came to see you last night, right?" I nod and he continues, "What did you guys talk about?"  
  
"Not much really, he just brought me dinner," I stop to choose my words carefully, "Of course the scene in the training room came up, but like everyone else, he defended her, at least he seemed to until he found out that she kicked me after I was down."  
  
"That's what I thought. Okay, so I was here last night, finishing paperwork on a previous assignment of mine and Vaughn came out of this hallway, I assumed from seeing you, and stormed across the room to his office, slamming the door behind him. Of course we all looked up after he had disturbed the peace, so to speak; he was on the phone before the door stopped shaking in the frame. At that point it really didn't matter that there was a door to his office because the choice words rang through loud and clear. And let's just say that I think Agent Vaughn ripped his wife a new one, I'd say that she was damn lucky to be at home and not at work." He pauses, giving me a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry, I know this seems petty, but I figured that after yesterday you deserved a little break. He still cares about you, Syd, there is no doubt about that."  
  
I can't help but smile as Bryce is describing the scene to me and even though I want to kick myself for causing more problems to Vaughn, I am happy to hear that he didn't just write off what his wife had done to me. "Oh, Agent Armstrong, I think you just might be my best girlfriend."  
  
"Great," Bryce makes a disgusted face at me. "I guess I'm glad I told you then. Shall we go then?"  
  
We laugh our way down the hallway and for once I am glad to be with a person who doesn't remember me from before - it's refreshing to not have been missed and mourned by someone when I remember nothing of the tragedy.  
  
We are still laughing as we enter the main room. Across the room I see an eager Weiss making his way towards us.  
  
"Hey there, can I get some sugar?" Eric Weiss is all grins.  
  
"Eric, it is so good to see you and your stupid grin," I laugh as I wrap my arms around his neck, happy to oblige. "How are you?"  
  
"Pretty good considering everything, I'm sure you've heard about my aversion to mailmen," Weiss chuckles good-naturedly. "No bitter divorcees here."  
  
"Yeah, Will filled me in, I was sorry to hear about what you have been through."  
  
"Please, listen to this girl, feeling sorry for what I have been though after the hell she has been put through since returning, not to mention the last two years," Weiss hugs me again. "I'm glad you are back. I was tired of looking at Armstrong's sour puss day in and day out, he is no match for you, gorgeous."  
  
"Stop it, you're going to make me blush," I protest as I do just that, cheeks heating from Weiss' attention. "It's just too bad you're not my type, we really could have had something."  
  
Bryce hoots behind me with laughter as Weiss gives me a wounded look, again I have to pull out the charming smile, knowing I will be forgiven without a thought.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to leave now before I have to dig into the ground to take my ego with me," Weiss contradicts his words with a bright smile. "Armstrong, we on for basketball at six?"  
  
"Yup, you, me, Tippin and Vaughn." Bryce answers, once again taking my arm. It will never cease to amaze me how convoluted my world is - my best friend, my current escort and my ex-boyfriend (Weiss is just Weiss) all play basketball with each other - talk about a conflict of interests. "Let's go, Syd."  
  
I start to say goodbye to Weiss but my attention is taken when I see a visibly angry Kendall storming across the room towards Vaughn's office. Before the door slams I can here him say, "Just what the hell were you thinking?"  
  
"Syd," Bryce's voice interrupts me as I strain to hear more of the conversation between Kendall and Vaughn, who are both gesturing in the other's direction. "Syd, I said, let's go."  
  
"Hmm," I shake my head and look up at him, Weiss has already walked off in another direction, oblivious to the argument happening across the room. "Sorry, I spaced out for a second there. Yes, let's get going."  
  
Our path once again takes us by Vaughn's office; Vaughn is sitting, stone- faced, on the edge of his desk, listening to Kendall who is standing directly in front of him. They aren't yelling at each other so I can't make out what they are saying and neither man has noticed that I am on the other side of the glass. As we are about to pass through the doorway into the now familiar hallway, I can hear Vaughn's voice rising.  
  
But it is Kendall that I hear, as clearly as if I were standing in the room, "I don't give a shit, Agent Vaughn, she is your wife and you will not forget that. This is what you signed up for and you can't just back out when something happens that you don't like."  
  
Of course Kendall would be all for keeping that marriage together. 'Ass,' I say in my head, 'Just stay out of it.'  
  
By the time we reach the regression therapy studio, I am already starting to regret my feelings of glee with hearing that Vaughn yelled at Melanie. I'm no saint, but she is his wife and I can't change that and I shouldn't be glad that he isn't happy, despite what that might mean for me.  
  
'Could this get any worse?' The thought has formed itself in my head before I am able to get rid of it, I know better than to question the shitty situation I am in, in my experience, it can always get worse.  
  
Dr. Barnett opens the door and welcomes me in, "Good morning, Sydney. Are you ready to get started?"  
  
"As ready as I will ever be."  
  
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Okay, that's it for now. Sorry there is no S/V action but I am building something here and you can't expect them to be back together in a heartbeat - what fun would that be? Please read and review and tell a friend! Remember - good things come to those who wait and hopefully this is going to be better than good when it ends. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Hola all! Thanks for the reviews and please keep them coming.  
  
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You know how people say, "Time flies when you are having fun?" I think those people are full of shit. I have certainly not been having fun but the time has flown right by. All my days spent in this cell have run together, aside from the first few at the beginning when life was throwing me curve balls right and left, they are pretty uniform.  
  
For the past three weeks this has been my life: mornings and afternoons I visit with Barnett both in her office and in the regression therapy room. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I'm allowed time in the gym or out on the roof; Tuesdays and Thursdays I sit through medical testing. Will stops by at night, bringing with him movies, meals and good conversation. Sometimes Bryce tags along and laughs at our stories and shares a few anecdotes of his own. For the past week my dad has been coming by, back from a globe- hopping excursion, following my mother. He wasn't able to track her down but did uncover some clues he thinks might explain where I have been. Despite what he thinks, I doubt that my mother had anything to do with my being kept away from those I love for the past two years, I can just feel that it was Sloane.  
  
Three days after my run-in with Melanie, she came to visit me at my cell. She wisely stayed on the other side of the glass, though I highly doubt the guard would have unlocked the door even if she had asked him to. She was there to apologize to me for her behavior, blaming it on being tired after flying in that morning from her friend's wedding and ticked off about being called in to train a new recruit when she wasn't supposed to be at work until the next day. I waited silently, willing her to go away without my having to say anything. But she just stood there, her eyes imploring me, waiting for my response. After a few moments of silence I was finally able to speak: "Okay," was all that I could get out through my gritted teeth. Apparently that was enough for her and she left without saying another word. If only there were etiquette books for this sort of thing.  
  
Marshall, Dixon and even Weiss were regular visitors, so the only person missing from rotation was Vaughn. Since the night in my cell when we had almost kissed I hadn't spoken to him, only seen him when Bryce had taken through the main room on my way to meet with Barnett. A few times he had looked up and offered me a half-hearted smile but that was it. Two weeks ago Will informed me that Vaughn and Melanie had been sent to D.C. for a conference and after that they were going out into the field for a fact- finding mission. How sweet - a husband and wife team. If I didn't know better, I would think that Kendall had sent them away from me, I guess it wasn't too far outside of the realm of possibility since he was so pissed at Vaughn for yelling at Melanie on my behalf.  
  
So here I sit, almost a month after waking up in the alley, staring at the glass wall in front of me. Nothing has changed for me, I've remembered nothing during my therapy sessions and I'm no closer to putting all the pieces together than I was in the safe house in Hong Kong. And really, there are no pieces to put together, it's more of a connect-the-dot type thing. Point A: I'm fighting Allison and passing out in my room; Point B: I'm waking up on cold, wet cement. How did I get between the two - I have no idea.  
  
But things are looking up. Today I'm getting out of here. Of course leaving here opens up a whole new can of worms. Where do I live? What do I do with my time? Where are my things? Do I even have things? Where do I go from here? Those questions and many more circle around in my head, unanswered and unspoken.  
  
I've refused my dad's offer to let me stay at his house, even when I had been little I never really felt like I lived with him and I couldn't imagine making a go of it now. So the plan was for me to stay with Will; he had a spare room and was happy to have me.  
  
Before I leave I will be meeting with Kendall who will outline the options I have; Will is certain I will be asked to come back to active duty. I have no idea what Kendall is going to say or how I will react. Now, more than ever I want to get Sloane, to make him pay for everything he had done to me and those around me, but I don't know if I can go into battle without Vaughn at my side. Ever since I started my campaign against Sloane, Vaughn has been there. He was my first contact at the CIA and my biggest supporter, part of what kept me going was his determination to do the right thing - it perfectly balanced my resolve towards revenge.  
  
* * *  
  
My meeting with Kendall took all of fifteen minutes. He explained my options: I could lead a civilian life with round the clock protection and no access to information about Sloane or my mother, I could join the witness protection program or I could continue my work with the CIA. I would be given low-level security clearance and had passed the physical requirements for being a field agent with flying colors. Kendall promised that if I came back, I would be sent out on missions related to Sloane or my mother and my purpose would be to continue what I had started four years ago. In time I would be able to sit in on strategy sessions and review the information retrieved on my missions but at the beginning I would be under probation, treated like a new recruit, given only the information necessary for the completion of my mission.  
  
I can tell that Kendall still doesn't trust me, despite my being cleared of any wrong-doing or suspicious activity. And I almost don't blame him; before I disappeared I was a great agent and if I were lying, it wasn't unfeasible to think that I would be able to fool everyone into thinking I was an unknowing pawn in Arvin Sloane's game.  
  
My choice is simple, as tempting as a normal life was, I can't imagine living either as another person, apart from my loved ones or in my current life but without knowing what is being done to get Sloane. Like it or not, I need the CIA as much as they need me. Kendall didn't let me tell him my decision then and there but asked that I come back after the weekend and let him know what I have decided. Who was he kidding, he knows very well what I would decide, he's an ass but he not an idiot.  
  
After leaving Kendall's office I was finally able to walk through the Joint Task Force without an escort. Everyone was going about their business, ignoring me as I walked across the room to Vaughn's office. I left the lights off as I walked inside. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, searching for the smell of him. Imagining him walking into the room and taking me into his arms, telling me he loved me.  
  
But it was Bryce, not Vaughn, who interrupted my daydream to tell me a car was waiting to take me to Will's house. Since I had nothing in the cell that was mine, aside from my new mattress and sheets, I was ready to go. I followed Bryce out of the building and was surprised when he got in the backseat of the car with me. He was assigned to me until Monday morning - it looked like Will was getting a second roommate.  
  
When we got to Will's, Bryce suggested I take a shower. 'To get the grime of the CIA washed off of me,' he had joked. He couldn't have been more right, there is something about sleeping in a cell and spending four weeks inside of a single building that makes you want to remove your skin or, at the very least, stand under scalding hot water until the water runs cold. And I am doing that very thing now, happy to see natural light shining in through the glass block window beside me.  
  
After Bryce's suggestion I had headed straight for the bathroom, not straying from my path to explore Will's place. Will's hot water has proved itself as I finally sigh and step out of its spray, into the steam-filled bathroom. I wrap a towel around myself and wring the water out of my hair as I watch my cloudy reflection in the mirror. What I see is an honest expression of how I currently feel; I know it is my body in the mirror, me who is reflected, but I can't see a clear image and because of that I feel quite detached from myself.  
  
I have gained a new perspective in the past month and with Dr. Barnett's help I have been able to come to terms with what has happened to me without compartmentalizing my feelings. Though she did recommend I keep my feels divided on some level, making it easier for me to re-enter my current reality without falling back on my old, though very familiar, emotions. I've managed to stop feeling angry with Vaughn but I can't seem to care about him any less, even in his absence. Every day that I don't see him makes me yearn even more for even a glimpse of his face, his gorgeous smile or the worry lines etched across his forehead. Barnett admitted that she can't make me not love him, that she doesn't have any advice to help me through the inevitable pain other than to remind me to be open and honest about my feelings, at the very least with myself. When it comes to Michael Vaughn, I am not to bottle up my feelings and cast them out to sea, hoping they will sink.  
  
I'm lost in my thoughts when I hear a knock on the door.  
  
"You okay in there? Kendall will kill me if you've drowned yourself," Bryce's voice floats through the door. "I'll leave a change of clothes for you outside the door."  
  
"I'm okay, Bryce," I laugh. "Thanks for the clothes, I can't image putting my other things back on, I think I might have to burn them. Thanks for checking on me."  
  
"No problem, just doing my job." I hear the floor creak as he walks away from the door.  
  
I grab hold of the towel as I open the door, peaking out into the hallway. Stacked on the floor is a welcome combination of denim and wool. I smile when I see a pair of white satin bikini briefs and a matching bra, poor Bryce had to pick these out as well. I don't even want to think about who got them to Will's in the first place, I can't imagine my underwear needs were top on the CIA list of priorities and the image or Bryce or Will shopping for them cause a snort of laughter to escape.  
  
I dress quickly, relishing in the warmth of the material on my skin, the workout-friendly clothes I have been wearing are comfortable but none too comforting. An hour after I have entered it, I emerge from the bathroom feeling like a new woman, or at least a free woman.  
  
I retrace my steps back to the front door see Bryce sprawled across the couch watching ESPN. The back of the sofa faces me so I walk around in front of it so I can see Bryce's face, he doesn't even look up at me, such is his focus on the screen before him. I stand there, waiting for him to notice me.  
  
"Did you want something, Syd," he asks, not taking his eyes off the television and I can't help but laugh.  
  
"Bryce, you are so not my best girlfriend anymore. Is this how you are going to protect me - attracting any would-be attacker to the light of the television screen?"  
  
Bryce finally looks up at me, grinning, "Let's face it, Syd, you can pretty much take care of yourself, so I think it is safe to say that I am just hear to cover the government's ass. Of course, if your attacker is Melanie, I may serve more of a purpose."  
  
"Oh please, if Melanie comes here I can promise you I would kick her ass."  
  
"I've no doubt of that, I meant that I would have to protect her from you and also keep you from putting yourself back in that cell for assaulting a federal officer."  
  
"Uh huh, that's what I thought you meant," I roll my eyes. "So, where's my room?"  
  
"Down that hallway, second door on the left," Bryce motions to the hallway that leads away from the living room at the right of the television. "There is another bathroom that way and I'll be staying across the hall from you. Will's room is in the back of the house where you came from, you were using his shower."  
  
"I'm sure he won't mind. Hey, do you know when he is coming home?"  
  
"Not until late, he has a date with Marie tonight. He called while you were in the shower and said to call him if you wanted him to come home, he would be happy to reschedule with Marie."  
  
"Yeah right, what an empty gesture, he knows I would never ask him to break a date. Besides, I've got my brick wall to hang out with. Do you want to go out and grab some dinner in an hour or so? I can't imagine cooking a meal right now."  
  
"Sure, I know a great place that isn't too far from here. We go there sometimes after playing basketball. It's real casual, has good food and is a great place for people watching. Last time we were there, Mike." Bryce stops mid-sentence, giving me a quick, worried look. "Sorry, Syd, I didn't mean."  
  
I cut him off, "Don't even worry about it, he is your friend and your talking about him doesn't upset me, it would bother me more if you pretended like he didn't exist. I don't want my coming back to be any harder on either of us than it has to be and people not being able to talk about him isn't a way to make that happen. The place you were talking about sounds great. I'm going to go find my room and take a short nap or something, come get me if I don't come back by seven."  
  
"Sure thing. Will also wanted me to let you know that the boxes in your room are your things, he picked up some stuff from storage today."  
  
The prospect of seeing my own things is enough to get me scurrying out of the room and down the hall.  
  
The room that I will now be calling home for the next however long is warm and welcoming. The walls are painted a pale green, a celery-ish color and two framed black and white prints adorn the walls with a handful of other things that are either black or white joining them. A queen-sized bed is tucked into the corner furthest from the door, on top of which is a deep red comforter and black and white throw pillows. This room screams female influence as Will's idea of decorating has always included team pennants and a monochromatic color scheme in either brown or gray.  
  
On the floor in front of me are a half a dozen boxes, varying in size. I actually recognize a few of them from the myriad moves that I have made since graduating from high school; not counting having moved every year during college from dorm rooms to apartments, I have moved five times in four years. Of course, now it is five times in six years, but why split hairs. I pounce on the first box and tear the lid off, eager to see what is inside. I have no idea what I might find and am slightly disappointed to see clothes, I hope that isn't what is in all of the boxes.  
  
By box six I am zero for five in the clothes/non-clothes department and cursing myself for getting so excited about delving into the past. But box number six holds the jackpot, not a single piece of fabric rears its ugly head when I remove the cover. I wordlessly shoot my arm up in victory.  
  
I start pulling things out, casting knick knacks aside in search of pictures, letters or mementos. My frenzy is halted when I happen upon a framed photo of Will, Francie and I. We are making faces at the camera, dressed up in caps and gowns from our college graduation.  
  
My eyes are already stinging as I see the next frame in the collection. It's the one Vaughn gave me his first Christmas as my handler, in the corner of the frame is the ticket stub from the time he treated Will, Francie and I to miniature golf. The photo in the frame makes me lose my breath, I had forgotten he had given this to me. Smiling out from behind the glass is an eight-year-old Vaughn, suited up in his hockey outfit, standing out on the ice ready to go. The picture had been taken on a family vacation to Colorado, where Vaughn had been able to skate outside for the first time in his life, California didn't readily lend itself to frozen stretches of water.  
  
He had given me a copy of the photo one afternoon after we had spent the previous night talking about the guilt I still felt when I thought about the fact that my mother had killed his father. He had said that yes, he had lost his father, but it wasn't my fault and besides that, he knew that his father was always with him and this photo reminded him of that. In the picture you can see the shadow of Vaughn's dad falling across the ice as the elder Vaughn had taken the picture with the sun at his back.  
  
The two frames in my hands and their contents were as much homage to my old life as anything could have been. Carrying them with me, I rise off the floor and cross the room to the bed. Throwing the cover back, I slip into the waiting warmth, feeling my face dampen with tears. Finally being free of the confines of my cell makes the constraints of my real life that much more apparent and for the moment I need to give myself over to the true sadness I feel at having lost two years of my life. For once, crying feels healthy and healing instead of something I have done to feel sorry for myself or out of depression.  
  
* * *  
  
I wake later to Bryce shaking my shoulder. "Sydney, wake up, I'm starving."  
  
I peel one eye open at a time, instantly feeling the hard frames in my arms. Letting them fall to the mattress, I turn to face Bryce who standing beside the bed. One look at my swollen eyes and I can tell he regrets his jovial demeanor of a few seconds before.  
  
"Hey, Bryce, don't mind me, I'm just taking a quick stroll down memory lane. Don't worry, I'm all right, no cause for alarm."  
  
Bryce gives me a your-such-a-trooper smile and shakes his head, "You are something else, Agent Bristow. I don't know how you do it?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Constantly try to make others feel better when you are going though a shitty stage in your life. You are really showing a resilience I think few people could muster even in better situations."  
  
"Well, I'm a pro at it, I spent years avoiding the subject of my mother for the benefit of my father," I shrug as I get out of bed. "Seriously though, what is the alternative? Letting people feel sorry for me and hoping they will walk on eggshells in my presence? That doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun to me, or a healthy way to deal with things."  
  
"Okay then," Bryce nods. "Let's go get some grub."  
  
* * *  
  
Bryce is right, the place he was talking about is definitely full of character and characters - it's a hot spot for people watching. As soon as we enter, the gray-haired hostess named Patti welcomes Bryce by name and asks after his friends, "the boys." Bryce says they would all be in on Tuesday after basketball and Patti grins knowingly in my direction, "I see, no basketball when there is better company to be had."  
  
"Patti, this is Sydney. Sydney, this is Patti," Bryce introduces. "Sydney is definitely much better company and definitely better to look at."  
  
To my surprise, I feel myself blushing at Bryce's off-handed compliment. It has been a while since someone other than Weiss has commented on my looks in such an unabashed way.  
  
"Thanks, Bryce" I whisper as Patti shows us to a booth.  
  
Bryce gives me a shrug and orders two tall Killian's from the passing waitress, looking to me for confirmation. It has been God knows how long since I had alcohol but I could certainly use a drink tonight, to hell with the consequences; I could always hold my alcohol before so I might as well build my tolerance back up.  
  
"So what do you recommend," I ask after I have taken a minute to look over the mainly American menu.  
  
"The burgers are great, of course, but I secretly love their loaded baked potatoes. The things are gigantic and delicious - smothered with cheese, bacon, mushrooms and sour cream."  
  
"Good lord, I think I just felt one my arteries closing, it sounds heavenly. I always was a sucker for food."  
  
The waitress, "Ruth" her nametag says, brings us back our drinks - two towering glasses of red-colored liquid. We order our meals and start in on the drinks in front of us, munching occasionally on the basket of chips between us.  
  
I have drank over half my beer and am feeling the start of a happy buzz as Bryce is relating the story of Will's thirtieth birthday and how he was drunkenly telling anyone who would walk by that he was going to ask Marie out the next day in an effort to prove that after thirty you have no fear of rejection. There are tears in my eyes from laughing as Bryce explains that after twenty or so people had walked by, Will had started transposing the consonants in Marie's name and had begun calling her Ramie.  
  
"We still call her that to get on his nerves. It drives him." Bryce stops mid-sentence, staring at the door behind me. "Oh shit."  
  
My thoughts immediately go to escape routes, wondering if I will be able to run in a straight line for the door to the kitchen when I hear her voice.  
  
"Hi, Bryce," Melanie calls from behind me, "Michael, look, it's Bryce."  
  
I'm thankfully hidden by the tall back of the booth and am given a much- needed moment to compose myself before the couple is standing in front us. Bryce's eyes flash to mine before looking back to the approaching pair. I wonder if it is possible to slide under the table and out of sight without their noticing me. Too late, here they are.  
  
"Oh, you're not alone," Melanie's voice goes flat.  
  
"Nope. Not alone. Hey, Mike."  
  
Vaughn's face clearly registers shock as he looks between Bryce and I. "Hey. Sydney, I didn't know you were, um, we just got back an hour ago and decided to grab a bite to eat. We haven't even been back to the JFT."  
  
"Oh," clever, Sydney, clever. I attempt a more intelligent sentence, "How was your trip?"  
  
"Great, useful even," Melanie answers and continues hopefully, "So you guys are."  
  
"Staying at Will's until Monday," Bryce finishes her sentence, wanting to be clear about what is going on here. "Will's out with Marie so we decided to grab a bite to eat."  
  
The four of us look at each other in silence, shit this is awkward. Thankfully the beer has kept my temper in check, in fact I feel sort of giddy, which is the only thing I can attribute the next words out of my mouth to. "So, would you guys like to join us?"  
  
Vaughn and Bryce both look at my sharply as Melanie accepts my invitation. I am appalled with myself and clearly wish I could take my words back but now that they have been said and accepted I can hardly say, 'Gee, good to see you, don't let the door hit you on the way out.'  
  
I rise and move over to the other side of the booth when it is clear that neither Vaughn nor his wife are quick to sit down next to me, either option having its pitfalls. Melanie slides into my vacated bench, with a stricken Vaughn next to her, directly across from me.  
  
Given that we can't talk about work, our conversation is rather stilted, shifting from the weather (sunny) to traffic (non-stop) back to the weather again (still sunny). During this time I have finished my beer and Ruth has brought me another when she returns with the Vaughn and Melanie's drinks (another Killians for him and a whiskey sour for her, how appropriate, I think haughtily, sitting across the table with my superior beer).  
  
Bryce has somehow steered the conversation to the safe and slightly interesting topic of favorite college professors. Bryce and Melanie carry the conversation as Vaughn and I take turns smiling and nodding our agreement, I might have even mentioned my British Literature professor who thought she was one of Shakespeare's descendants, or perhaps I just thought about it, I'm not really sure.  
  
Melanie has moved on to trying to convince Bryce that he should try yoga when I feel Vaughn's knee brush against mine under the table, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my head.  
  
"I'm sorry, I have to go to the ladies room," I interrupt at the same time hearing Vaughn say he needs to excuse himself to use the bathroom.  
  
"Well, what a coincidence that is," Ruth laughs as she walks up to our table. "Your food will be right out so you had both better be off before it gets here."  
  
Thank God for Ruth, otherwise I can only imagine the awkward silence that would have followed the joint outburst from Vaughn and I.  
  
I stand and lead the way back to the bathroom, praying I'm swaying too much along the way. Standing up has made the room start to spin ever so slightly. I reach the door to the hallway leading to the bathrooms without incident, only a few more paces until I am safely inside the bathroom. I can't tell if Vaughn is close behind or not, but I don't dare glance back to see as I walk into the room at the end of hall.  
  
On the other side of the door I lean against the counter in front of me, closing my eyes in an effort to stop the spinning. The door creaks open, hitting the back of my legs.  
  
"Sorry," I mumble, moving away to allow the person entry.  
  
"Don't be sorry, Syd," his voice causes my eyes to fly wide open. I turn to look at him and before I can think or speak, I am on him, lips to his, pressing him back against the door we have both just walked through. The desire I feel is ridiculous and intoxicating.  
  
I seem to have flipped the switch in him as well; his arms circle me, pulling me firmly against him. With little effort, he has changed our positions and I am now the one trapped against the door, his tongue in my mouth, teasing mine. I can taste the beer in his kiss, or maybe it my own, I don't know. All reason and clear thought has left my head and my only focus is on the man in front of me. At this point I am willing to go as far has he wants, he will have to be the one to stop this.  
  
As soon as the thought leaves my mind, I can feel him pulling away from me. He doesn't quite break contact, but the kiss we are sharing is calmer, less intense. He brings his hands up to frame my face and pulls his mouth from mine.  
  
"Sydney, God, you have no idea how much I want you right now. But this isn't a good idea, not here, not now."  
  
"I know," I take a deep breath and say the dreaded words, "You're married."  
  
"Yes, I'm married," Vaughn almost sounds like has forgotten that all- important fact. "Fuck."  
  
"Is that an offer?" Did I just say that out loud? Note to self, after two years of not drinking, one tall beer is my limit. "Sorry, can I plead intoxication on that one?"  
  
Vaughn still hasn't stepped back from me or removed his hands from my face and given that my hands are still tucked under the hem of his shirt, I'd think it is safe to say we are both reluctant to break contact all together. His green eyes are searching mine, looking for what, I don't know.  
  
"Are you coming back to the CIA?"  
  
"Yes," I reply in a whisper. I know that we shouldn't be here like this, especially with his wife laughing one room away but I can't break the spell we are under. Slowly I move my fingers so they are resting on the top of his boxers, slipping one, then both index fingers underneath the material, tugging against it and pulling Vaughn towards me, my eyes locked with his.  
  
His hands move from my face to the wood behind me, bracing his body has he moves closer once again, one leg stepping in between mine. My tongue darts out to lick his lower lip and that is all the encouragement he needs to come crashing against me. His left hand drops to my waist, fingers digging into my hip and sliding down to my thigh to pull my leg up and around his own. He repeats the action on the other side and steps forward, pushing my legs up and around his waist, my back pressing against the wall. My hands have left his waistband behind and holding tight to the back of his head, fingers lost in his hair.  
  
There is a knock on the door and Vaughn practically drops me as we are quickly broken out of our reverie. Thankfully I am able to get my legs under me as Vaughn's arms drop to his sides and he backs away, eyes wide.  
  
"Um, Syd," Bryce calls through the door, "Kendall just called, he wants us back at the op center like ten minutes ago."  
  
"Okay," my voice practically squeaks. "I'll be right there."  
  
"Sure thing, tell Vaughn on your way out, too. He and Melanie have gotten called in as well, she went out to get their car. I'll get our food to go."  
  
"All right, thanks, Bryce," I look at Vaughn who looks bemused, an odd reaction for something who was seconds from committing adultery.  
  
I hear Bryce's footsteps retreating down the hall and I let out a captive deep breath.  
  
"Sydney."  
  
I stop him from continuing, "Vaughn, please don't apologize for this. It is my fault anything happened."  
  
"Sydney, I wasn't going to apologize," Vaughn starts and then stops, rubbing his ringed hand over his face. "We'd better go, we can talk about this later."  
  
"Okay, whatever you want, Vaughn," I'm eager to please at this point, happy to avoid conflict, "But in the future I will try to control myself. It won't happen again."  
  
At that, I turn and go out to door, pausing to check the hallway for people before motioning for Vaughn to following.  
  
As we walk down the hall I swear I hear him muttering, "What if I want it to happen again?" Though I don't question him and chalk what I heard up to alcohol-induced delusions, I still can't help the grin that creeps onto my face.  
  
Bryce is waiting as we re-enter the dining room and gives me a smirk as I stop in front of him. Vaughn continues past us, throwing back, "See you in a few."  
  
"Feel better?"  
  
"Huh?" I ask, feigning confusion.  
  
"Sorry, that's a family habit," Bryce laughs, clearly remembering something close to his heart, "My dad always used to make comments when we came out of the bathroom after a long period of being in there. Things like, 'everything come out all right' and 'gee, we thought you fell in.' Just a little low-brow humor. I'll bet you are glad Kendall called."  
  
"Why's that?" Bryce obviously has no idea what was going on in the bathroom, or at least he is trying not to allude to it.  
  
"Because I can't imagine how the conversation would have gone for another five minutes, let alone a half an hour. Melanie's a nice girl but there is only so much I can talk to her about and I knew if Vaughn and I started talking about sports it would leave you and the wifey staring at each other in silence. No thank you."  
  
I look at Bryce and crack up, pent up sexual frustration transferring itself to laughter. "I'm sure Melanie would love to hear you call her 'the wifey.' You're lucky she isn't here, I think she would have a few choice words for you."  
  
Bryce rolls his eyes as Ruth brings four styrofoam boxes over to us, "Here you go, dear. I'll add this to your tab. Take care now."  
  
I'm halfway to the car before Bryce catches up with me, eager to remove myself from the situation all together. Of course once we get to work I'll be back in Vaughn's presence. Great.  
  
Bryce stays quiet on the way to the joint task force, for which I am eternally grateful. My emotions seesaw between excited, sad and curious as to why we are being call in; feelings of guilt are quickly pushed away, I cannot think about what happened between Vaughn and I, not in that way. This is what being the other woman feels like, and oddly, it doesn't feel as bad as I thought it would.  
  
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Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed the long chapter. Once again, reviews are welcome! 


	8. Chapter Eight

Sorry for the long interval between updates, I've been suffering from a lack of inspiration. Writer's block - let's hope it's passed.  
  
As always, reviews are welcome and much appreciated!  
  
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"Are you all right?" I ask casually as Bryce speeds past the tenth car in a row on the highway, his jaw clenched.  
  
"It seems like that's something I should be asking you - what was going on back there?"  
  
I pause before continuing, unsure of how candid I want to be with Bryce, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Come on, Syd, you weren't alone in the bathroom. Did Mike follow you in there?" Bryce looks over at me. "I know it is none of my business, but I don't want to see you hurt -- either of you. He's married now, whether you like it or not, and I can't imagine that being alone with him is a good idea."  
  
'You have no idea,' I say to myself and sigh, rubbing my hand over my face. "Bryce, thank you for your concern, but seriously, I just don't want to talk about it, not right now."  
  
"Fair enough," Bryce offers me a hopeful smile, "So, why do you think we have been called in?"  
  
"I have no idea. It could be anything."  
  
"Don't you think it's strange that you would get called in?"  
  
"I guess so, but maybe it has something to do with me, or Sloane, or my mom."  
  
"Or maybe Kendall doesn't want to let you out of his control, even for the weekend."  
  
"Then there's that. I guess we will just have to wait and see."  
  
I spend the rest of our ride thinking about what had occurred between Vaughn and I in the bathroom, guilt slowly worming its way into my feelings; by the time Bryce has pulled into his parking spot, I can barely keep from holding my head in my hands. No matter how much I want Vaughn, I can't continue to act on my feelings. I can't make Vaughn that man, he's not the type of person who cheats on his wife.  
  
"Syd, are you coming?" Bryce is already standing outside of the car.  
  
"Sorry, I'm just." "Not a problem," Bryce interrupts before I can offer him a half-assed excuse, "You've got a lot on your mind."  
  
I join him outside and we make our way into the building. I recognize a familiar feeling in my stomach, the feeling of anticipation I always get when I come in to be updated on a mission. I'm glad to feel something other than guilt, however fleeting.  
  
Kendall meets us at the door, motioning for us to follow him into the large conference room. "Thanks for coming in on a Friday night, folks."  
  
Bryce gives me a look that clearly says, 'Like we had a choice.'  
  
I roll my eyes and take one of two empty chairs, putting Bryce at my right and Marshall on my left. Vaughn and Melanie are across the table from me and I avoid looking either of them in the eye. Dixon is sitting on the other side of Vaughn with a disappointed-looking Will at his right. Weiss heads up the left end of the table and raises a hand to wave at Bryce and myself. My father is on the other side of Bryce and past him are three men who appear to be new recruits.  
  
"I'm sure you all are wondering what you are doing here," Kendall smirks. "But before I continue, are you with us Agent Bristow?"  
  
Suddenly, all eyes are on me. I return Kendall's ironed-on smile, "Yes, sir."  
  
"All right then, let's cut to the chase." Kendall moves to the front of the room and the image of a rather homely man appears on the screen behind him. "This is Walter Bingham, president of InnoCorp, a high-end IT firm out of Houston. The government uses InnoCorp technology to secure information about so-called top-secret projects in all of its branches. We have reason to believe that Bingham has been siphoning off information about these projects and is prepared to auction it off to the highest bidder. We have been asked to retrieve the information, destroy it and bring Bingham into custody, preferably alive."  
  
"How do we know Bingham hasn't already sold the information?" My dad is the first one to speak up."  
  
"Good question, Jack. Given the nature of what has been stolen from the servers and communications, if that information were already in the wrong hands, let's just say that we would know about it. The United States would be in rather precarious standing with more than one country that we have historically been quite friendly with. At this point I can't share any more information then that with you but I have told you more than enough for you to get the importance of this mission."  
  
"Excuse, Director Kendall," Melanie asks politely from across the table, "Do we know who would be bidding for the information?"  
  
"We have some speculation but only Bingham knows for sure who he has offered the information to. The list of usual suspects can be assumed: Franklin, Scot, Neiman, Romanow," Kendall continues to rattle off a list names completely unfamiliar to me, it appears that the "usual suspects" has seen some changes in the last two years. "And of course Arvin Sloane; we have noticed increased activity coming from his sector."  
  
At Sloane's name my interest has been piqued, I look up and see Vaughn staring intently at me. Our eyes lock for the briefest of moments before Kendall's voice breaks into our interlude. "We will leave in tomorrow morning at seven for Houston. Bingham is scheduled to spend the day judging a beauty contest, we will have an agent there posing as a contestant. Bingham has judged more than a few of these pageants and seems to have a penchant for securing a date for the night with one of the eager young ladies. Agent Bristow, it's going to be your job to make sure you are the woman he attaches himself to for the night. Will that be a problem?"  
  
'Super.' Again, all eyes are on me, "Of course not, sir."  
  
"Good. Agent Vaughn, you will provide back up for Agent Bristow while your wife will take point on information retrieval and destruction. We believe Bingham has secured the stolen intel on a laptop computer in his private office at InnoCorp. Melanie, you will break into InnoCorp with Agents Weiss and Armstrong. Jack, you will run the mission on-site with Ford and Phelps on tech and comms relaying to Marshall here in L.A. Agent Dixon, I am putting you in charge here at headquarters."  
  
Two of the unfamiliar faces at the end of the table nod at hearing Kendall's direction. The third man sits with an expectant look on his face, no doubt hoping to be called into action.  
  
"Carson," agent number three can't conceal his excitement, "You will be giving second back-up to Agents Vaughn and Bristow."  
  
Kendall keeps going to detail each part of our mission. I spend the next thirty minutes trying to focus on what he is saying while avoiding eye contact with Vaughn. Kendall finally calls on Marshall to describe our technology for the mission.  
  
Marshall springs out of his seat and into action, some things never change. "Hey there folks, I know it's been a long week so I will be quick. Sydney, good to have you back in the game, so to speak. We've all seen those beauty contests and know that accessorizing is the key to any winning outfit? Well, I've got just the ticket for you."  
  
Marshall proceeds to pull out a gorgeous set of jewelry and demonstrate how each piece works. The teardrop earrings provide audio and visual, the bracelet is loaded with two tranquilizers and the matching ring contains an antidote to the tranquilizers in case I accidentally shoot myself as Marshall informed us he managed to do a number of times while he was designing the piece. The crowning achievement of his set was an evening purse with a disassembled gun hidden within the lining and the handles.  
  
"Thank you, Marshall," I can't help but laugh as he finishes his demonstration with a bow.  
  
"No problem, it's my job," Marshall grins, turning his attention to the rest of the room. "There's nothing special for the rest of you, just the normal guns and comms. Agent Edwards, I mean, Agent Vaughn, I have a memory encryption and deletion program for you to run on Bingham's computer as well as a self-contained explosion chamber, I'll show you how to use it after the meeting. It's still in my office, I'm working out a few kinks with it."  
  
"I'm not going to blow myself up, am I?" Melanie asks with mock concern, her voice clearly communicating that if anything goes wrong she is coming back gunning for Marshall.  
  
"N-n-n-no, it's not one of THOSE kind of kinks; I'm just waiting for the cleaning service decal to adhere to the outside of the case. I designed it myself. It has foot coming down on a dustball with the tagline."  
  
"That's all for now," Kendall stops him before he can really get going. "Does anyone have any questions?"  
  
Will who now looks more pissed off than disappointed, clears his throat, "Can I ask why you called me here, sir -- you haven't given me anything to do on this op."  
  
"Yes, Agent Tippin, you will get to undertake the formidable task of analyzing the information we gather from Bingham's home and work computers as well as InnoCorp's client server to uncover possible leads and indicators as to who might want the information and to see if Bingham is working alone. To avoid having to explain the situation to you tomorrow I decided to call you in tonight."  
  
"Thank you, sir, explaining it twice definitely would have been an inconvenience to you," Will pastes a smile on his face, inwardly I know he is probably steaming from having left his date with Marie. Bryce and I exchange knowing looks.  
  
"All right, thanks everyone for coming in. Go home and get a good night's sleep, I'll see you tomorrow morning at the air strip at seven o'clock sharp. Tippin, you don't have to be to the office until noon." Kendall picks his notebook up and strides out of the room ahead of the rest of us.  
  
I catch Will's eye and offer him a smile, he shrugs and rises from his chair. Coming to my side of the table he leans down and whispers in my ear, "I guess I'll see you when you get back, Marie gave me a key to her apartment so it looks like I am heading over there tonight - don't wait up."  
  
I stand and give him a playful punch in the shoulder, "And here I was feeling sorry for you for having to break out of your date with Marie. Whatever, Tippin, I won't let that happen again."  
  
"Come on, Syd, have a little pity on me -- at least you are leaving town, I'm stuck at the office for the weekend," Will juts his lower lip out.  
  
"I'll be sure to send you a postcard, I might even have time to pick you up a souvenir," I laugh, happy to banter with Will instead of brood over Vaughn.  
  
"Sometimes it is such a curse having to use my quick mind instead of brute strength to win my battles. Of course, you have both so you wouldn't know what it's like to have to rely on one or the other. It's good to have you back, Syd, I'm glad you decided to stay with us."  
  
"What else was I going to do? It's sort of hard to explain a two-year gap on your resume." I switch to interviewing voice, "Oh, well, I've been missing for the past two years and just recently turned up in an alley in Hong Kong and the government thought I might have been a triple agent. So, what sort of benefit plan do you offer?"  
  
"Regardless, I can't imagine you doing anything else, you are destined to bring down the bad guys, whoever they are. I'll see you later," Will gives me a quick hug before exiting the room.  
  
While Will and I were talking everyone else has filtered out, but Vaughn and myself.  
  
I busy myself gathering my new jewels and packing them into my handy purse. Vaughn's hand comes down on top of mine as I reach for the earrings.  
  
"Sydney, there's something you should know."  
  
"Stop, Vaughn," I pull my hand out from under his, stuffing the earrings into the handbag. "Whatever you have to say doesn't matter. Unless it has to do with the mission, I don't want to hear it. What happened between us tonight was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened and I am going to make sure it doesn't happen again. Do I need to remind you that you are married? I may not like her much, but Melanie is your wife and deserves your fidelity and respect. I will not let you be the kind of man who cheats on his wife; no matter what our feelings are for each other we would both end up feeling far too guilty and it would ruin what we had. So whatever you have to say, Vaughn, just keep it to yourself, for both of our sakes."  
  
Before Vaughn can respond I am out the door, swallowing the tears that are threatening to fall. I see Bryce look up as I exit the room and I make may way over to him. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
"Sure, Syd, are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine, I just had to clear the air. Let's get out of here."  
  
Bryce and I are leaving the JTF as Melanie is walking back in carrying Marshall's self-contained explosion chamber, complete with newly-affixed bright green decal. I can't help but look back and instantly regret doing so as I watch her walk up to Vaughn and give him a brief kiss on the lips.  
  
* * *  
  
Bryce and I ride home in silence, keeping whatever thoughts we have about the mission to ourselves. We have to leave by 6:15 to make it to the airstrip in time so we both head off to our rooms once we are back at Will's place.  
  
After putting on sweatpants and long-sleeved tee shirt I go in search of the bathroom down the hall, hoping there will be a toothbrush waiting there for me. Bryce meets me in the hallway, carrying two toothbrushes, one red and one blue, and a tube of toothpaste.  
  
"Looking for these? I thought you might need one, I didn't figure you brought the one from your jail cell."  
  
I laugh, taking the red toothbrush from his extended hand, "What would I do without you?"  
  
"Probably lead a very happy life," Bryce flips on the light in the bathroom, indicating that we share the sink. "You know, since you decided to stay with the CIA I technically don't have to be here."  
  
"Whatever, you're too attached to me already. Besides, I'm pretty sure Kendall would still want to make sure I was 'protected'."  
  
Bryce rolls his eyes as he spreads toothpaste our toothbrushes, "Okay, I'll stay, just don't spit in my hair like you see happening in sitcoms, I do not find spit in my ear funny."  
  
I smile wickedly at him as I run the toothbrush back and forth over my teeth. And though I am tempted, we have an accident free tooth brushing episode.  
  
"So, are you worried about working with Mike tomorrow?" Bryce asks, trying to sound as casual as possible.  
  
In the midst of dealing with my guilt about possibly breaking up a marriage and trying to concentrate on what was expected of me with incapacitating Bingham I have managed to avoid thinking about that aspect of the mission. "I don't know, I guess I was too preoccupied with hoping I remember how to do everything right tomorrow. I mean, it isn't the optimal situation to say the least, but we are professionals and I am sure we can act that way tomorrow and get our jobs done."  
  
"Well, that certainly sounds like the right attitude to have and if I didn't know better, I'd be sure it would work wonderfully."  
  
"What makes you think it won't?"  
  
"Experience, I tried working with someone who I loved and who I was no longer with and it didn't turn out well. That's why I am here instead of the East Coast which is where my family and friends still live."  
  
"I'm sorry, Bryce, I obviously didn't know. But forgive me for saying this, we are different people and for right now this is the only solution there is. I'm not moving and I can't ask Vaughn to move. Despite my personal history with anyone, I have always had one objective, to get rid of Sloane and the CIA is my only means of doing that for right now. But thank you for telling me, I will be careful, I promise you."  
  
"All right, enough lecturing from me, you can take care of yourself. Just remember, I know what you are going through if you want to talk to someone, well, I'm here." Bryce shakes his head back and forth, aware of how corny he sounds, "It's just that sometimes it is easier to talk to someone who is not so involved with your situation, that's how come Will, Mike, Eric and I became such good friends after I moved here. Of course now that I say that, I guess I am rather involved, so feel free not to tell me anything."  
  
I can't help but smile and I am glad to note that I am not offended by Bryce's concern for Vaughn and I. It's good to know that I haven't lost my trust in human beings. "Okay, we had better get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."  
  
"Good night, Sydney."  
  
I head back down the hall to my room, leaving Bryce alone in the bathroom. As I enter my room I can hear him sighing, no doubt frustrated with my stoicism.  
  
* * *  
  
Thanks for reading, sorry to give you no action, but it is coming and hopefully all before next Sunday. I hate to say it, but I hate writing the mission stuff, it's much harder than the human relationship aspect so please ignore any elementary or just plain wrong terminology, I may get the show but it doesn't mean I can replicate that aspect of it :)  
  
Please review, I've missed you all! 


	9. Chapter Nine

You guys are awesome! Thanks for the reviews - I appreciate them so very much! I love the idea of Syd and the men out of the town - I might have to explore it, thanks for the idea. I'm also glad that you guys like Bryce since he is my original character.  
  
I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations, missions certainly aren't my favorite things to write, we'll see how easily this comes.  
  
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The flight to Houston was uneventful. Melanie and Vaughn arrived late to the airstrip looking like they hadn't gotten a whole lot of sleep the night before, but I didn't let my mind ponder on that for too long. Instead, I spent the flight chatting up the new agents. Carson, Ford and Phelps had me in stitches for the entire flight - it makes me miss the old days when I was seemingly innocent, enjoying the thrill of working for my government, or at least thinking I was working for my government. Thankfully I can look these three men in the face and know that I am not helping to deceive them; I can't help but feel proud of them for giving their all for their country.  
  
After a smooth landing we are ready to move into action. I laugh as I watch Melanie, Weiss and Bryce load up their gear - guns, Kevlar and rope abound - the kind of action they are going to see is slightly different from myself and Vaughn. He's dressed in a powder blue suit and his cover is that he is my pageant coach. And lucky me is carrying a garment bag filled with two evening gowns, a cocktail dress, a suit and three string bikinis. Thankfully my jewels and purse are also inside, there's nothing I hate more than being unarmed. This is going to be quite the interesting mission.  
  
Bryce grins at me as he passes by on his way to his cover van.  
  
"What are you looking at, Armstrong?"  
  
"I saw you making friends on the plane - you better watch yourself."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Please, Miss Innocent, Carson could barely contain his excitement when you sat down with the three of them."  
  
"Whatever, you saw Carson at the meeting last night, he almost jumped out of his seat when Kendall told him about his part of the mission." I roll my eyes. "The guy is just a little high strung, that has nothing to do with me."  
  
"If that is what you need to tell yourself, be my guest, but I'm just saying, try not to foster any crushes."  
  
"Give me a break," I laugh out loud. "Go do your job, I'll see you later."  
  
"Oh, don't forget the Vaseline for your teeth - it helps you smile pretty. Have fun today!"  
  
I'm still shaking my head when Vaughn walks up. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be," I say, picking up my things. "Now, where's our car?"  
  
On cue, a black Suburban with tinted windows pulls up in front of us. The driver's side window comes down revealing an eager Carson. "Hop on in guys!"  
  
* * *  
  
The CIA has arranged for Miss Meyerland to be unable to attend Miss Houston "Scholarship" Competition so the runner up will have to take her place - enter me. I think that Marshall might have had a hand in my alias: Chrissy Summers, given that he is a huge fan of both Three's Company and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At least my name isn't Dirk Wyatt which is Vaughn's unfortunate cover, who knows how I am ever going to be able to look at him in his suit and use his name without dying of laughter. Carson is my chauffer and Dirk's assistant, Frankie Z. Yes, this is what I do for the government - at least it's comic relief from my own personal life.  
  
I spend the remainder of my morning decked out in a suit with a too-short skirt, sitting through interviews talking about how I want to save the world by promoting literacy. I can't even take this part seriously; these people don't care what I am saying, they simply rate me based on my appearance and how much of my legs are showing beneath my skirt.  
  
Vaughn has been scoping out Bingham and trying to get in his good graces so he can pawn "Chrissy" off on him later. Carson was able to learn from one of the other assistants that Bingham appears to respond well to the promise of sex. Terrific.  
  
We won't meet the celebrity judges until the afternoon tea so I have a couple hours until I really have to go into action. After my last interview I finally get a chance to escape to my dressing room. I find it odd that we each have our own changing room but they seem to take these contests seriously down here, that and I heard a rumor that there was a scandal last year when three girls tied their dressing roommate up, zipped her into a garment bag and stuffed her in the closet.  
  
Inside my room I shut the door securely behind me and lean against it, sighing loudly.  
  
"Is it that bad?"  
  
"Holy shit, Vaughn," I can't believe how fast my heart is racing in my chest. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be schmoozing Bingham?"  
  
"Taken care of, provided he likes the look of you at the tea, you are set for later tonight." Vaughn has made himself comfortable on the couch across the room.  
  
"Good work, Agent Vaughn," I grab a bottle of water, hoping that having something in my hands will keep him from seeing how much they are shaking. I am not sure what has caused such a reaction in me, being alone with him or being surprised and having that wake up something buried in my subconscious. "So, since I am in with Mr. Bingham do I still have to participate in the evening gown and bathing suit part of the competition?"  
  
"Sorry, Syd, you are in this for the long haul. You can't tell me that you don't like to dress up all pretty and act like someone else for a few hours."  
  
"Please, it's one thing to pretend to be an aristocrat at a European dinner party, it's completely different to be in Texas and ogled by a bunch of horny old men." I kick off my three-inch heels and start unbuttoning my suit jacket. "You'd hate it too if you were me."  
  
"Yeah, I can't say that I would appreciate a bunch of men staring at me."  
  
Ignoring his last comment, I grab my cocktail dress to change into for tea and head for the adjoining bathroom. I steady my voice and try to ignore my pulse thudding in my ears. "I'm just going to change real quick and then we can go over our plans for the evening. What's Bingham like?"  
  
Behind the closed bathroom door I am able to close my eyes and lean against the sink, supporting myself with trembling arms. I look at my reflection and I am surprised to see that my face has drained of color and a few beads of sweat are dotting my forehead.  
  
Vaughn's voice comes muffled through the door. "Bingham seems like a big, old teddy bear, but I can tell he is rather freaky. When I was talking to him he even made me uncomfortable, like he would just as much like to see me in an evening dress as you. We'll have to come up with a signal in case he gets too friendly with you, I'll have my comm piece on at all times, so I'll hear if anything is happening. You can use a code word like milk or something. What do you think?"  
  
I can't bring myself to answer because I am afraid of the sound that will come out of my mouth. The room is starting to spin and I try to sit on the edge of the tub behind me but misjudge the distance and end up hitting the floor with a loud thump.  
  
There's a knock on the bathroom door, "Sydney, are you all right?"  
  
"Vaughn," the name is barely audible as it passes my lips and I am thankful that I didn't lock the door as it swings open.  
  
Vaughn is at my side, one arm sliding around my shoulders, the other pressed against the side of my face. "Sydney, what's wrong? Are you all right? What can I do?" His eyes are searching mine as I struggle to keep them open.  
  
My heartbeat has slowed down and I am starting to feel normal again, though the dizziness has been replaced by a pounding headache.  
  
"I don't know, when I got to the room I just started feeling strange, like a huge rush of adrenaline hit me but I didn't have anything to do with it." I press my hand against my forehead. "Shit, my head hurts."  
  
"Here, let's get you out and on the couch. You've got an hour until the tea so you can take some time and rest." Vaughn stands and bends down to pull me up with him.  
  
"Vaughn, I'm feeling much better now, I think that whatever it was has passed," I protest as he gets me on my feet. Once I am upright my legs wobble slightly, causing me to fall against Vaughn's chest; I can feel his heart beating a quickened rhythm. "I have to get ready."  
  
"Sydney, you are not fine," Vaughn's breath is hot on my cheek. "Besides, you don't need any time at all to look beautiful."  
  
I turn my head and note that the concern I saw there earlier has been replaced by something else, old-fashioned lust. If I didn't think that pushing myself away from him would cause me to fall down again I would do just that, but my legs are feeling weaker by the second. Vaughn turns and puts his other arm around me, pulling me close to him.  
  
I can feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes before they start to fall. For a moment I forget my resolve from yesterday and slide my arms around his waist, burying my face in his shoulder.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sydney," Vaughn whispers in my ear. "I wish things were different, but right now everything is screwed up. Please, just know that I love you and that I want to be with you."  
  
"Don't." I lift my head from his shoulder and look him in the eye. "Don't say anymore; I can't hear it. We are on a mission, Vaughn, and I can't afford to be thinking about you when I should be focused on our objective. This is my life now, bringing down the bad guys. You have your wife and that can't be changed."  
  
"Everything can change, Sydney, everything."  
  
"What do you mean by that, Vaughn?" Despite the anger I can feel building inside me, I can't seem to physically (or emotionally) let him go. "You keep saying things like that. But I can't believe that you would leave her - you stand by your commitments."  
  
"And you keep saying things like that - deciding for me what I am going to do, what decisions I will make when it comes to my marriage."  
  
"Vaughn, would you listen to yourself? Are you seriously saying that if it weren't for my stopping you, you would be cheating on your wife? What if I don't want that for myself? What if I don't want to be the other woman?"  
  
"Sydney, you could never be the other woman. You are THE woman."  
  
"Okay ,Vaughn, tell me this. Tell me that you didn't have sex with your wife last night." At this point I have to let him go and I step back from him, relieved when I don't teeter on my feet.  
  
But Vaughn doesn't answer me and in his silence I have my affirmation. "This conversation is over. Please leave so I can change."  
  
"I'm sorry." Is all Vaughn says as he leaves the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.  
  
My body shakes with a noiseless sob as I hear the door to the hallway open and slam shut.  
  
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Okay, sorry to end it like that but it is late I am tired. Hang in there - the best is yet to come (at least in my head it is pretty good). Plus, this wasn't super mission-y so I got a little ahead of myself.  
  
R&R! Thanks mucho! 


	10. Chapter Ten

Sorry it's been so long - life is busy and it's hard enough to keep up with that let alone the sub-reality that I have created here for Sydney and her friends.  
  
Thanks again a thousand times for the reviews!  
  
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Tea went well - I was able to avoid Bingham's wandering hand while enchanting him enough for him to cement our plans for the evening. Vaughn and I would meet up with him after the competition had wrapped for the evening. And even better, I learned that the swimsuit segment would not happen until the following day so I wouldn't have to participate since I would be miles away in Los Angeles.  
  
Vaughn and I stayed out of each others' way as much as possible but since he was supposed to be my coach, there was no way to avoid standing back stage with him at my side or really going anywhere. Every other beauty queen seemed attached at the hip with her respective advisor and I couldn't be any different.  
  
Waiting in my dressing room before the evening gown competition, Vaughn and I sat in silence. Carson chattered on, oblivious to the two of us, telling us about his family and current girlfriend who he figured he would be proposing to in a few months time. After thirty minutes of one word comments from Vaughn and myself he finally stopped talking and looked quizzically at the both of us. Vaughn explained before Carson could even ask that we both liked to concentrate on the mission prior to its start - that we were getting in the right frame of mind. Carson accepted this and joined us in our silence, staring intensely at the dressing room door, stopping to cast furtive glances in our direction to make sure he was doing it right.  
  
Finally I was called into action. After a quick walk across the stage and down the runway, stopping every five steps to strike a pose, I was done with the beauty pageant. Vaughn gave me the obligatory kiss on the cheek as I walked back behind the curtain, whispering that I did indeed look beautiful. I ignored his comment and returned to my dressing room to change into yet another dress for my dinner with Bingham.  
  
I met Carson out in the hallway, handing him my garment bag to take to the suburban. Bingham had asked that "Dirk" join us for dinner so Vaughn was waiting for me in the lobby with Bingham's driver. Carson would follow us and stand ready to pick us up once we had incapacitated Bingham and downloaded the information we needed from his computer.  
  
We are led to Bingham's limo and I note that both Vaughn and I take a deep breath before getting into the vehicle. Bingham's nameless driver guides the car onto the highway and in no time we are speeding long, headed north and out of town.  
  
"So, Miss Summers, what do you find is the most difficult part of your role in the pageant," Bingham turns to me, casually brushing is hand over my knee, pushing the hem of my dress back onto my thigh. Nice.  
  
Sadly, being fondled by unattractive older men is nothing new for me; it typically doesn't even phase me, but with Vaughn sitting across from us I feel cheap and slutty even though I am simply playing a part. I gently place my hand on Bingham's, stopping him from moving his hand any higher and give him my most charming, schoolgirlish smile.  
  
"I guess I would have to say not being able to flirt with the judges when we are doing interviews. Flirting comes so easily for me that I can't help it sometimes and I know that we can get in trouble for that." As I talk I let me hand trail up Bingham's arm, shifting my body so I am facing him more directly, allowing my dress to hitch up a little higher on my legs.  
  
Bingham's eyes flicker from my face to my hand and back again. "I can understand how that would be hard, a woman with your beauty and natural charm." Bingham's voice is filled with mock-sympathy and I am so thankful that I am really not the kind of stupid girl who would fall for this schmuck.  
  
"Oh, it is," I let me voice fall to a whisper. "You don't think I will get in trouble for going out with you tonight, do you?"  
  
"Don't worry," Bingham says patting my knee. "It will just be out little secret. But just to be on the safe side, I've arranged for us to have dinner at my home so know one will see us in public, we wouldn't want you to loose your chances of becoming Miss Houston."  
  
'Smooth, you little bastard,' I think as I smile innocently at Bingham. "You think of everything. Isn't he just the smartest, Dirk?"  
  
Vaughn meets my look and smiles knowingly, "Yes, Mr. Bingham you are certainly on top of things. I'm so glad you have taken an interest in my girl, she is going places."  
  
At that moment I run my fingers through Bingham's coarse gray hair, twirling my index finger around his ear. "Yes, she most certainly is," Bingham agrees, his voice hitching as I tug on his earlobe. He removes his hand from my knee and grasps my exploring hand, bringing both back down to his lap.  
  
Before he is able maneuver my hand where I certainly do not want it to go, I manage to fake a sneeze, bringing both hands up to cover my face. Vaughn and Bingham bless me in unison. I sneak a glance over at Vaughn, who lifts an eyebrow at me, before turning my attention back to my date. I am saved from further car-ride explorations as I notice we are turning onto a long driveway leading up to a rather impressive mansion. Bingham might be creepy and perverse but he is still a millionaire and all that entails.  
  
Once we stop in front of the house, the driver scurries around open our door. Bingham exits first motioning first for Vaughn and then extending his hand to me. Once I am out of the car, Bingham doesn't drop my hand right away but pulls it to his lips, giving it a firm kiss before letting it go.  
  
Bingham leads the way inside, bringing us to a formal living room. "Please make yourselves comfortable while I make sure that everything is ready for us. I hope you don't mind but I like to have dessert before dinner."  
  
"Whatever suits you, Mr. Bingham," I smile widely. "I love dessert!"  
  
Bingham leaves the room from a different door than the one we entered through, leaving Vaughn and I alone for the first time since out encounter earlier this afternoon.  
  
"Syd, you are amazing," Vaughn turns to me a look of awe on his face. "I can't believe you don't just deck the guy and get it over with, he's disgusting."  
  
"He's not that bad, considering some of the men I've had to put up with," I shrug. "It's easy since I know that soon I get to knock him out and that nothing is going to happen between us. Can you imagine if I actually had to sleep with the guy - that would be awful."  
  
"Yeah, that would be awful," Vaughn agrees with a strange look on his face.  
  
"So, why do you think that you are still here?"  
  
"I assume that Bingham likes to cover his bases, in case it wasn't made clear enough that you aren't actually here for dinner. He makes a move and you shoot him down then I can simply have us eat dinner and send us on our way. Miss Meyerland certainly wouldn't win the contest but Bingham doesn't chance a claim of assault or rape. I'm his safety net."  
  
"That's a good theory. When do we make our move?" I'm happy to simply be discussing the mission and not any other topic related to our personal lives.  
  
"It's almost seven, so, the other team should be just about to start at the office. We need to give them time to get in and out before we take Bingham out. His staff will call the police when they find him missing and we can't chance someone else finding out and checking in on his office. I'd say we have a half hour or so before we can safely knock Bingham out and call Carson in here for pick up. We'll have to make sure that the driver isn't around so we have a free path out to the road. It didn't look like Bingham has security cameras set up outside."  
  
Before I can respond, we hear footsteps approaching and Bingham re-enters the room carrying a small box.  
  
"Ms. Summers, this is for you," Bingham hands me the box. It's light as air, whatever is inside certainly isn't much.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Bingham, I'm sorry I don't have anything to give you."  
  
"That's all right, I'm sure you and Mr. Wyatt will think of a way to repay me," Bingham smarms. "In fact, I have an idea. Why don't we move to another room, I have a play room downstairs that would be perfect for this occasion."  
  
Bingham reaches out and puts his arm around my back, urging me forward towards the door he just came through. Vaughn, who sat down when we heard Bingham returning, remains seated, giving me his best smile of encouragement. Bingham turns to him, an eerie grin on his face, "Please join us, Mr. Wyatt, I'm certain you will enjoy Ms. Summers' gift as well."  
  
I look back over my shoulder Vaughn who has risen from his seat, eyes wide. It is clear to both of us that Bingham's intention for this evening doesn't exactly include using Vaughn as a safety net. This option certainly wasn't something that was explored by the CIA when they were detailing the mission specs.  
  
Bingham leads us across the hall, down a set of stairs, through another hallway and into a large room. Once glance tells me that this is definitely the "play" room. Mirrors cover one wall while the other three are covered with a velvet-textured material. In one corner is a king-sized bed with silk scarves tied to the headboard. In the opposite corner is a striper's pole atop a small stage. Pushed against one will is a large armchair, upholstered with the same fabric that adorns the walls.  
  
While the rest of the house appeared to be tastefully decorated, this room is nothing short of tacky. I almost groan when I see a pair of handcuffs lying in the middle of the floor, all but covered by the black shag carpeting covering the floor. We've entered a den of inequity straight out of the 70s. The only thing obviously out of place is the video camera mounted to the ceiling.  
  
Bingham leaves my side and walks to the middle of room, turning around to grin at us. Vaughn is standing next to me, is arm brushing against mine.  
  
"Welcome to the play room," Bingham's voice is filled with pride. "Tonight I am going to monitor the activities while the two of you play together. Do you think that the two of you can play nice or am I going to have to punish you?"  
  
I can practically feel the disgust coursing through Vaughn's body while I am simply trying to stifle a giggle - Bingham has no idea how ridiculous he sounds or that in a minute he will be knocked out cold. I smile at Vaughn reassuringly, now that we are out of sight, there is no reason we can't knock Bingham out sooner rather than later.  
  
I'm the first to speak, "Mr. Bingham, you don't mean that you want Dirk and I to. you know? I don't know if I can do that, he's my coach. I'd much rather play with you."  
  
"Oh please, Ms. Summers, you don't mean to tell me that you and Mr. Wyatt have never had sex, I know how it works," Bingham's says harshly. "Besides, this isn't up for debate, I'm in the mood to watch and you either play nice or Miss Meyerland doesn't win tomorrow, in fact, Miss Meyerland might not make it back for the rest of the competition. She and her coach may accidentally stumble into the wrong crowd on the wrong side of town and end up will matching bullets in their heads."  
  
Bingham pulls back his suit jacket to reveal a revolver holstered under his arm. This guy has turned from creepy to completely crazy in a matter of minutes. Another aspect of the mission we hadn't bargained for, but then again we should have been prepared for anything considering this guy was stealing information from his government and auctioning it off to the highest unscrupulous bidder.  
  
"Mr. Bingham, I assure you that Chrissy wasn't trying to be difficult, there's no need to threaten us. I for one have to problem following your wishes," Vaughn sounds light but I can hear an almost imperceptible hint of rage in his voice.  
  
"And I assure you, Mr. Wyatt, I was only explaining your options, it is your decision. But it sounds like you are a team player, so I don't see where we will have a problem, right, Chrissy," Bingham winks at me and I nod. "All right then, Chrissy, why don't you go in the bathroom over there and put on your gift."  
  
I look at Vaughn, hoping to see a sign that he has an idea about how to get us out of our current situation. His face betrays nothing, revealing only an eager-to-please expression, while his eyes are stone cold. "Go on, Chrissy, it will be fun."  
  
I start walking towards the bathroom Bingham has pointed out, purse and box in hand. Bingham stops me, taking my purse out of my hands and tossing it aside, "You won't need this right now." So much for my gun, at least I still have my jewels.  
  
Apparently I have paused too long because I feel a swat against my ass and Bingham's voice creeps inside my head, "Get along now, Miss Meyerland. I'm not a patient man."  
  
Inside the small bathroom I try to avoid looking at my reflection as I pull a couple flimsy pieces of fabric out of the box. There is small comfort in knowing that of the two men who are going to see me in this, one has already seen me in much less and the other one will soon be knocked out. This is the sort of thing they can't prepare you for, facing your ex- boyfriend and a slimeball in dental floss and lace.  
  
I quickly slip out of my dress and pull on the lingerie - at least the bra appears to conceal my nipples - that's nice. I brush my hand across the bracelet on my right arm, thankful for its presence there, and quickly glance at my reflection in the mirror. I roll my eyes heavenward, "Here goes nothing."  
  
The bathroom door creaks as it opens, alerting the two men that I have returned to the room. Bingham is seated in the armchair about six feet away from where Vaughn is reclined across the bed. The older man's eyes are on me in a flash and I swear I can see saliva about to drip from his mouth. I look at Vaughn who locks eyes with me, not letting his glance fall below my chin.  
  
"Isn't she lovely, Mr. Wyatt, don't tell me that you haven't had a piece of that already," I am going to kick this guy's ass the second I have an opening. I start towards him, hoping I can get close enough to tranq him and be on my way. His voice stops me, "Chrissy, what did I tell you, you're playing with Dirk tonight, not me. You need to go over to him, don't worry, I'll tell you what to do."  
  
Reluctantly I shift my stride and approach the bed, knowing that with my back to Bingham he is getting quite a show but thankfully this allows me to grimace at Vaughn, hoping it somehow lightens the mood we are both in. No such luck, Vaughn's face betrays his true feelings and I can see the anger rising in him. My thighs brush against the bed and I lift my hand to squeeze his shoulder, eyes pleading with him to stay in control and not endanger us more.  
  
"Very good, Chrissy," Bingham's voice has taken on a disturbed school teacher tone. "Now I think it's best if you undress Dirk, he is definitely wearing too many clothes."  
  
'Super good.' Again I have to stifle a laugh, this is entirely ridiculous. I keep my eyes on Vaughn's as I reach down and start unbuttoning his shirt, the air seems to thicken and I no longer feel like laughing. I push his shirt back and off of his shoulders and as my fingers touch his skin, we both take a sharp breath. This is definitely not going like we had planned.  
  
"That's enough for now, Chrissy," Bingham's voice brings reality crashing back to us. "Join Dirk on the bed and why don't you guys show me a kiss."  
  
'You can do this, Sydney,' I give myself a mental pep talk. 'You've been in this situation before and kept your emotions in check.' But this isn't like any other the other situations, Vaughn isn't some "evil" conspirator, he's the man I love, who keeps saying that he loves me and who is married to another woman. And I want more than anything in the world to kiss him and to hold him in my arms, to make love with him. But that's not what this is and I have to remember that, we are being watched and possibly recorded, that this isn't the least bit romantic or special.  
  
Vaughn sits up and gives me his hand pulling me onto the bed next to him, lifting his hand to cup my cheek. Slowly his lips are coming towards mine and I part mine in anticipation. His lips lightly touch mine and he pulls back, leaving me wanting more.  
  
"Not like that, Dirk, I don't want to watch school kids experiencing puppy love, I want twenty-year-olds having a one-night stand," Bingham has risen from his chair and is walking closer towards the bed, just a little closer and he will be within range for me to kick. He stops just out of reach, I need to get him to come closer. It occurs to me that if he can't see what is happening, then he will likely re-position himself. I know what I have to do.  
  
I lay back on the bed and reach up to pull Vaughn on top of me. Vaughn lifts his torso up to look in my eyes, confusion mixed with lust showing through. Before he can do anything to protest, I tuck my head against his neck and start suckling his collar bone, knowing I'm almost completely hidden underneath Vaughn's body. Despite our audience, I can tell that Vaughn is starting to react and that it is hopeless to think that he will know my true intentions. Vaughn lowers himself to one arm and reaches his free hand around the back of my head, lacing his fingers through my hair and pulling my head back. I look up at him and see that he is no longer avoiding looking below my chin, his eyes masked with passion. His gaze meets mine and resistance (as they say) is futile, our lips come crashing together, tongues meeting and twining. My hands reach up to pull his hips against mine, nails digging into his flesh, knowing he likes that combination of pain and pleasure.  
  
"Yes, that's it, I knew you had done this before," Bingham's voice interrupts and reminds me of why we are hear in the first place. My plan worked and how he is within range.  
  
I push against Vaughn, flipping him towards Bingham and onto his back. His hands grab my waist, holding me against him, which will not do for what I need to accomplish. I circle his wrists with my fingers and lift his arms up and over his head, pushing them firmly into the bed. Giving him one last kiss, I push myself against his chest, flipping both legs around behind me and squarely into Bingham's abdomen, knocking him backwards against the wall. His gun flies out of his hand but I ignore it as I close in on my victim, knocking him back to the floor as he struggles to right himself. I'm tempted to continue going at him until he is out cold but know I can't waste the time or the effort so instead I press my bracelet against his neck, holding it there until his eyes close and he stops struggling for the air that I am blocking.  
  
My breath is labored as I turn back to look at Vaughn who is trying to catch his breath for an entirely different reason. Neither one of us can find the words to say and really, there are no words appropriate to this situation.  
  
"Shit," I'm the first to speak. "We've got to get going, Vaughn, this took a little longer than we expected."  
  
Vaughn's shaky laugh is music to my ears, "Let's not put this part in the report, okay."  
  
"Deal," For once I am happy to ignore the seriousness of the situation and continue about my business. "I'm just going to go change now and then we can be on our merry way."  
  
"That's probably a good idea, I don't know that Carson would be able to contain himself if he saw you in that outfit," Vaughn shakes his head. "Of course, I think Carson finds it hard to resist you when you are fully dressed."  
  
"Not you, too." I groan. "Bryce thinks Carson has a crush on me."  
  
"Oh, I know Carson has a crush on you. He asked if it would be against agency protocol for him to ask you for your number."  
  
"Vaughn, that's not funny, what did you tell him?"  
  
"That you didn't have a phone number since you had been missing for two years and that maybe when you got settled the two of you could go out." Vaughn starts to grin.  
  
"Bugger off, Vaughn, you sure as hell better be making this up or I'm going to have to use my last tranquilizer on you, I'm sure when Bingham comes to he would have a couple things he could do with you." I smile sweetly at Vaughn as I turn to retrieve my clothes from the bathroom, my smile remains when I hear Vaughn groan behind me.  
  
"Sydney Bristow, the things you do to me."  
  
"That's why the government pays me so well." I poke my head out through the bathroom door, happy to see that Vaughn is pulling his shirt back on, I always found it hard to resist him when faced with those abs and arms.  
  
As I'm pulling my dress back on I hear some noise in the other room and quickly run back in the room, stopping in my tracks when I see who has joined us.  
  
-------------------------------------  
  
That's all for now. hopefully it was worth the wait. And hopefully I will be able to continue with this sooner rather than later. 


End file.
